


Étude No. 3 in G-sharp minor, S. 141

by xlessxthanx3x



Series: Piano Man [2]
Category: Arrested Development
Genre: ...eventually ;), ...sort of lol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Pianist, Classical Music, Gen, Gob is Franz Liszt, I'd suggest reading the prequel first but it's not required, M/M, Pianist!Gob, Piano, Piano Sex, Tony is Niccolò Paganini, artistic is a metaphor for gay, classical music puns, in this house we still hate and don't support George Sr!!!, mentions of suicide and mental illness, or completely necessary, piano gob, some slurs present
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 199,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlessxthanx3x/pseuds/xlessxthanx3x
Summary: While it had gotten a few holes over the years that Gob had to sew up himself, he still took Lindsay’s old stuffed dove with him on every trip. It was stupid, and he knew that, but it was his symbol of flight, of happiness, of freedom. Just having a moment with it made him calm down. He wasn’t stuck in Newport. He was just there for a little bit, just for this dumb party and then his recital, and then he could leave again. It was fine.Hewas fine.A continuation ofÉtude Op. 25, no. 2 in F minor, a world where Gob became a pianist, with a Blunder endgame.





	1. Prelude in G minor

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if reading the prequel is necessary to understanding the story, but it might help. It's up to you!
> 
> [Étude No. 3 in G-sharp minor, Grandes Études de Paganini, S. 141](https://youtu.be/M0U73NRSIkw?t=16s)  
> by Franz Liszt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prelude in G minor (Op. 28, no. 22)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejUG_nAEQKM)  
>  by Frédéric Chopin

**Prelude in G minor (Op. 28, no. 22, "Rebellion"/"Impatience", ** _Molto agitato_** )**

The sound of “Für Elise” in a heavily synthesized form blared in the quiet hotel room. Gob woke up with a groan and, without turning to look, blindly searched around his night stand until he found the object making that noise. Why had he chosen that dumb ringtone again?

“’Ello?” Gob mumbled once he finally answered, still laying on his back with his eyes closed.

“Hey, Gob, it’s Michael.”

“ _Michael_ ,” Gob said, his voice particularly gravelly from just waking up. Of course it was Michael. Michael was the only one who would call him this early, except for maybe his agent. He rubbed his eyes and finally opened them. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to make sure you were still coming this afternoon,” Michael said. “I know you have a lot of other things going on so I thought I’d make sure that you remembered…and that you were actually awake.”

It took Gob a moment to remember what he’d be doing during the middle of a Saturday in the first place, and then he groaned and turned onto his side. There was a specific reason he was in Newport—well, there were two reasons, but this was why he was there so early. “ _Fuck_ , that  _is_  today, isn’t it?”

“Dad’s retirement party? Yes, that’s today.”

Gob rubbed at his eyes and sighed. Ever since Michael’s bachelor party years and years ago, Gob had worked his hardest on never seeing his dad and had been mostly successful. They had to cross paths a couple of times at the big events—Lindsay’s wedding, the birth of George’s grandkids—but Gob could count all the words his father had said to him on one hand.

You know, like the same hand Gob had punched him with.

“You’re coming, right?” Michael asked.

“Come on, Michael,” Gob said. “He doesn’t want me there, and I don’t want to celebrate him, either.” It was then that Gob felt a slight shift behind him in his bed. A warm body pressed up against his and Gob smiled a little as Michael kept talking.

“I’m sure he wants you there,” Michael said weakly. He still tried to defend their father from time-to-time. Gob was pretty sure he just did it because he didn’t want to admit he was working for and named his son after such an asshole; Gob just liked to pretend that George Michael was named after him instead. Or after the  _other_  gay musical icon because, yes, he’d call himself a gay musical icon, thank you very much. “But even if he doesn’t, everyone else is going to be there, even Lindsay and her family. We haven’t all been in one place for _years_. It’ll be fun to hang out again, you know, like old times.”

“We could hang out afterwards,” Gob said. “I know she’s already been here for a month, but I’m sure she’s gonna be here for a while longer.”

“…She’s been here for a  _month_?”

Gob froze. “…No?”

Michael huffed a little about it being “unbelievable” as lips pressed on the back of Gob’s shoulders and a hand went to his hip. That was nice.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael asked, popping Gob's little bubble of soft touches and kisses. Rude.

“I thought you knew!" Gob said after a moment. "If I knew you didn't I wou— _ohhh_ ,” he cut himself off as the hand that had been on his hip slipped somewhere else very close to his hip and Gob couldn’t say he really minded it but, you know, Michael was on the phone and that wasn't a line he felt like crossing, at least not so early in the morning. Gob looked over his shoulder and, not bothering to cover the phone, said, “Hey, I’m talking to my brother; can you wait a second before you feel me up?”

“… _Gob_ ,” Michael sighed. “Can’t you mute your phone during conversations like that?”

“Don’t be homophobic,  _Michael_ ,” Gob said, much to Michael’s annoyance. He still pulled that line whenever he wanted to make Michael shut up, and Michael still didn’t always stand up for himself when he did, since he was always worried about actually being homophobic. Michael liked to think he was better than his family when it came to that.

Well, he liked to believe he was better than his family when it came to a lot of things, but especially that.

“Whatever,” Michael said as Gob sat up. “Can you please join us? If not for dad, then for me. We haven’t hung out in a while…and you know dad has a big announcement to make…”

That’s when it finally clicked. This was the day Michael had been waiting and training and  _begging_  for throughout his whole life. This was the day Michael was going to be named CEO and finally get the job that, well,  _should’ve_  been Gob’s, but it was okay since Gob was pretty damn happy with his own rather successful career. Even if he could've at least been  _asked_.

And Gob, who always had a pretty good ear—understatement of the century, really—could definitely hear how desperately Michael wanted him to be there for the big day. So, even if it meant having to deal with his glowering father and the awkward conversations, well…

“Okay. I’ll be there,” Gob said with a sigh. He could practically hear Michael’s smile form at those words. “But I’ll meet you at your place first so I can see my baby. Okay?”

Michael agreed. “George Michael and I have to go back to change anyways. We can drive over from there.”

Once they agreed on a time, Gob looked at the alarm clock on the night stand. “My agent’s gonna call me soon but then I'll head over.”

“And don’t forget a check for your share of the party.”

“I’m  _not_  paying for that,” Gob scoffed. “He doesn't deserve my money. Why don’t you just charge it to the company?”

“It’s not a business expense—”

“So? It’s a  _business_  party. Besides, Lindsay’s been staying at the Four Seasons this whole time and I bet she’s charging it to the company.”

“She’s seriously been at the  _Four Seasons_  for a  _month_?”

“…I don’t think so…” Gob said. He coughed and said, “Oh, better go before my agent calls, bye!” Gob hung up the phone before Michael could ask him anything else. He put his cellphone back down on the hotel’s nightstand next to him and slowly moved his hand over to the small stuffed dove he had perched next to the hotel’s lamp.

While it had gotten a few holes over the years that Gob had to sew up himself, he still took Lindsay’s old stuffed dove with him on every trip. It was stupid, and he knew that, but it was his symbol of flight, of happiness, of freedom. Just having a moment with it made him calm down. He wasn’t stuck in Newport. He was just there for a little bit, just for this dumb party and then his recital, and then he could leave again. It was fine.

 _He_  was fine.

After a few moments of silence, Gob turned back to the guy next to him in bed. If he was going to deal with his family, he deserved some fun first.

“So,” Gob said with a charming grin, “Why don’t we continue where you left off?”

* * *

After a shower and a phone call from his agent, Anna, Gob drove his rental car over and walked through the front door of the model home Michael was living in. It was honestly so depressing how far away he lived from, well,  _everything_ , but Gob figured the idea of trying to rebuild a home after what happened with Tracey was just too depressing for him. Hell, it was too depressing for  _Gob_  to see Michael try to keep a family without her, even if it had been a few years since she died, so he couldn’t imagine how bad it was for Michael. Or George Michael for that matter. It probably felt nice to have a house meant to look like the perfect family lived there.

“Michael?” Gob called out as he came in through the entryway. “George Michael?” Gob walked around the corner into the living room, his eyes soon locking on the only personal touch the model home had, the one thing that wasn’t just a thing to show off to potential buyers.

Of course, that one thing was actually _Gob’s_ personal touch more than Michael’s.

Or, well, it was their mom’s, but she basically gave it to Gob when he was a junior in college, because Gob was the only one who used it anyway. And then Michael was the one to keep it safe while Gob was traveling, because pianos weren’t really things that someone could carry around on the road. And while Gob had a small apartment to his name in New York City, he had moved so many times over the years that it wasn’t logical for him to move his baby until he had a more permanent situation.

Well, that was how Michael had explained it, and Gob reluctantly admitted that it made sense. He wasn't even sure he could fit a grand through the door of his tiny little studio, anyways.

“Hey, baby,” Gob cooed as he ran a hand over the lid. In typical Michael fashion, the piano had obviously been frequently dusted and cleaned despite no one playing it since, well, last time Gob had been down for a visit. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been down here for so long,” Gob continued in a whisper. He always felt like he owed her an apology for how little he saw her, even though he was well aware she couldn't understand him. And that it was an _it_ , not a  _her_. “Let’s make sure you’re still in-tune, okay?”

A few chord progressions proved that Michael had continued to fulfill his promise and keep her professionally tuned; there was no way Michael could do that himself, even if he had finally somewhat mastered tuning a guitar. Gob smiled and relaxed as he let his fingers press against the keys. While he had an upright in his place in New York and practiced and performed on stages with even nicer grand pianos, his baby was still his favorite one to play on  _ever_. Everything always sounded sweeter when it came from the keys of his favorite instrument. It was actually kind of nice that he got to come over early and play on it before his upcoming performance with the Newport Symphony.

It was still kind of crazy to sit back and realize he was about to perform with the first orchestra he had ever seen, the orchestra he saw  _religiously_  growing up. There were maybe two specific performances he could remember missing before he went to college, and both were just because he had mono, because  _of course_  he got mono in high school, because,  _come on._  He was  _Gob Bluth_.

Well, now he was _George Bluth II_ , at least to everyone outside of his family and his closest friends. And while he still hated that name, George Bluth II was someone special in the classical music community. A rising star. A gifted musician. An  _artistic_  pianist—not that he really advertised the “ _artistic”_  thing, since, while a lot of musicians were gay, it just wasn’t something they talked about too often, but whatever, not the point.

After years of playing in piano bars and community theater productions and constantly auditioning, practicing, and competing—not to mention taking some less than stellar jobs, some of which definitely involved tearaway pants and a full command of his hips—Gob finally started to get some breaks. A performance for a well-respected conductor here, the support of a benefactor there, and, lo and behold, by the time he found his way to New York City, he could actually afford a studio in the gentrified part of town and  _wow_ had the city changed a lot since his attempt at Juilliard. Then Lindsay’s fancy wine-and-cheese functions helped him even more and, finally, being George Bluth II was on its way to being as impressive as being the George Bluth Sr, albeit in a very different way.

But, anyways, he was finally making his debut with his hometown orchestra in a big homecoming, west coast debut performance. He had a whole recital he had programmed himself for the occasion with a Russian theme. Well, Russian-born composers, since Tchaikovsky was always criticized for not sounding particularly Russian, but whatever. The first half was The Grand Piano Sonata in G major by Tchaikovsky, the second half was Stravinsky’s  _Concerto for Piano and Wind Instruments_ , and he had a planned encore of one of Rachmaninoff's Preludes—a classic encore. It was a surprisingly Liszt-less recital for him, but definitely not a  _listless_  one.

When Gob had told Michael that joke, Michael had muttered  _oh my god_ and hung up the phone on him. Michael never gave him credit for his obviously hilarious jokes.

So, taking advantage of having his baby under his fingertips, Gob closed his eyes and started playing the [final movement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oU7cE6qDGxE&t=1382s) of the Tchaikovsky. It had always been one of his favorites, and, no, not because it was written in G ( _for Gob!_ ) or because Tchaikovsky was a notably gay composer…Well, okay, not  _just_  because of those reasons, but they definitely didn't hurt.

Gob, as per usual, got so wrapped up in the music he was playing and the sounds of the keys that he didn’t even hear Michael and his son come in from the front door. He didn’t hear them come into the room either, his eyes open but not focused on anything around him as he played through his piece, only stopping when he reached the end of the movement.

“It’s nice coming home to a piano concert,” Michael said, causing Gob to break out of his spell. “It’s just like the old days.” Gob smiled and Michael smiled back.

“Some things never change, eh?” Gob said before getting up and giving his brother a hug. Then he turned to his nephew and briefly looked him over.

George Michael had grown a lot since he had last been in town; it was something Gob thought every time he saw him, since he rarely did get to see him. And when he did, he didn’t always give the best impression of himself. Visits to Newport meant being in the same, suffocating place Gob had worked so hard to escape, a place where he always felt afraid to be himself, and visits with Michael often meant Michael trying to get Gob and their dad to actually get along, which just made Gob unnaturally tense and a lot less fun than he was. And seeing how this was his west coast debut, it wasn’t like George Michael had even seen his uncle actually perform past stray moments like the one he had walked in on.

“Hey, Uncle Gob,” George Michael greeted with a wave. George Michael was, much like his father, not really a hugger, and Gob hadn’t been around enough to change his mind on that like he had with Michael. Still, Gob gave him a hug that his nephew awkwardly accepted for a short moment.

Gob took note of the Bluth Banana uniform his nephew was wearing when he pulled away. They seriously hadn’t changed it since Michael worked there. “You already worked a shift today?”

“Yeah. Work’s the most important thing after family,” he replied. He shot a look at his dad and added, “And breakfast…? I don’t remember where we landed on that.”

Gob raised his eyebrows but didn’t get to comment before Michael told his son to go wash-up and change for the party. They both watched him run up the steps and once the door to the bathroom closed, Michael looked back to his brother.

"So, you already hooked up with a guy? On your second night in town?” Michael asked.

"I'm a musician, Michael; I have groupies." Michael rolled his eyes and Gob, knowing the main point of why Michael even asked, said, “And, yes, I was safe.”

"I just...I thought you were seeing someone in New York."

"You mean Kevin?" Kevin had been the latest in a long line of boyfriends Gob had attempted to make work. As he got older, he found himself wanting a relationship more than a casual fling, but seeing as the best relationship he ever had ended almost a decade ago, he was pretty sure he was never going to settle down. If he couldn't make it work with his best friend—and Seth was still his best friend, making their friendship the longest one he'd had outside of his family—how the hell was he supposed to settle down with anyone else? "We broke up a couple of days ago," Gob said simply, as if it were nothing. And, really, it hadn't been long enough for it to be more than nothing. 

"And you already moved on?" 

"They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else," Gob joked, making Michael groan. Gob knew Michael got all huffy about it because he worried about his health, and he knew it was meant to be a good thing—and, hey, if it wasn’t for Michael, Gob would forget to get tested as often as he did—but it always just came across more like Michael being judge-y than being thoughtful and concerned.

“Anyways, what was that call from Agent Anna about?" Everyone had taken to calling her that, since it was how Gob first referred to her. "Anything big?” 

Now  _that_  was a conversation topic that made Gob smile insanely wide. “I’m working on signing a contract while I’m down here. Not for  _here_  here—I mean, Newport offered me an Artist in Residence position, but—”

“Wait, seriously?” Michael asked. “Why didn’t you take that?”

“...We’ve been over this,” Gob said, his smile fading a little. “I can’t live here. Not with…” Gob shook his head, not even wanting to mention his father. So he smiled again instead, since he was truly excited over what Anna had called about. “That’s not the point, though. The point is that, before I leave town, I'm signing a contract to make my debut at the  _LA Philharmonic_.” Before Michael could even ask if that was a good thing, Gob explained, “It’s one of the best orchestras in the  _world_  and getting that means I could be booking the Big Five orchestras next—New York Phil, Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Cleveland—then the bigger halls in Europe, and  _then_ , before you know it, I’m the next Liszt—you know, just not a composer...and a lot hotter, really. Freddie was the only guy who could pull off that haircut."

Leave it to Gob to bring up both Liszt and Freddie Mercury in the same breath.

“Well, I'm not really a judge on that last part, but the rest of that's fantastic,” Michael said genuinely. “Really. I’m happy for you.” He paused and then admitted, “I just don’t understand wanting to do all that traveling…or why that traveling can’t come in this direction more often.” Before Gob could say anything, Michael put up his hand to silence him. “I know with dad and everything it’s complicated, but George Michael barely even knows you. And…” Michael paused for a moment and said, “And I miss having you around.”

Gob sighed quietly. The truth of the matter was that Gob missed Michael, too. And he missed getting to know his nephew. And he missed California—there was a reason Seth still called him "California" despite the fact that he had left about a decade ago. Gob was really a Californian in all ways; he loved the desert air and the bright sun and the laid-back attitude much better than the humid air and wind and uppity attitude in the northeast. And,  _god_ , he missed open-toed shoes. 

But being in California, or at least southern California, anywhere near his dad? Gob didn't have that option. It sucked that his dad had ruined his favorite place for him, but what could Gob do about that?

“There's not much out here for me. Not compared to what there is in New York—”

“Or Boston?” Michael asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gob crossed his arms with a sigh. “I can’t help it that Lindsay lives in a better place for my career or that you two aren't talking for whatever reason.”

Michael looked about ready to argue, but he closed his mouth when he realized Gob had a point. He still didn’t look happy with it, but he nodded in understanding.

Gob moved back to the piano and sat down. “You should get ready,” Gob said after a moment. He smiled a little and said, “You wanna look good for your big day, right?”

With a small smile, Michael shook his head. "You just want to play the piano some more."

"That, too." Gob shrugged and rolled a chord.

"Some things really never change," Michael said wistfully.

Then, as if to argue that things did change, Gob started playing the chorus of "[Changes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPPSu0vaNWA)" by David Bowie. But the mere act of randomly playing a song instead of participating in a conversation like a normal human really just proved Michael's point all the more.

And, just like the good old days, Michael got ready to the sound of Gob playing his baby. As he straightened up his tie, he couldn't help but quietly sing along with the final chorus as he looked at his reflection.

_"Time may change me, but I can't trace time..."_

* * *

 

Michael drove the three of them over to the party, even though they took Gob's rental car. Even when Gob was sober, Michael never particularly liked Gob driving, because his brother truly lacked focus when it came to, well, anything but playing the piano. One time he drove himself, Michael, and Lindsay to school and decided to change CDs mid-turn and almost crashed into a stop sign in the process. Gob had then proceeded to go ahead and change CDs anyways in the middle of the intersection before driving to school like nothing had happened.

Besides, Gob was always fine with being in the passenger's side. Well, as long as he got to pick the music. So, he found a classic rock station and took in Newport as Michael drove them to the docks.   

It was always insane, at least to him, how many memories would pop up from seeing the littlest of things all around town. He could remember going to specific restaurants, shopping at particular stores, and even seeing the first  _Star Wars_  at one of the movie theaters downtown. So many things were exactly as he left them, completely preserved in time. 

But, of course, some things had changed. There were parking lots where there used to be open land. There were beach front stores that had obviously changed owners. And, of course, there were now some posters of Gob’s headshot up to advertise his big concert.

That was definitely the change Gob liked best.

“How does it feel to be named after two celebrities, George Michael?” Gob joked, making Michael roll his eyes while his son laughed nervously. Gob wasn’t sure the kid could do anything that wasn’t nervous.

But, finally, they made it to the docks. Michael and his son got out as soon as they parked, but Gob took a moment. Well, several moments. Enough moments that George Michael started to get a little worried and Michael finally knocked on Gob’s window. Gob groaned but got out of the car and let Michael lock the door.

“Let’s get this over with,” Gob said before leading the way onto the boat.

The first Bluth Gob saw on the boat technically wasn’t a Bluth at all, at least not by name. Maeby stood next to the edge of the boat as she threw pieces of bread towards the seagulls on the dock, looking incredibly bored and over the whole party already. However, her frown soon turned around when she saw her uncle. “Uncle Gob!” she called out before running over to him. Unlike George Michael, Maeby had no problem with hugging her Uncle Gob, and she hugged him almost as tightly as he normally hugged—which was really saying something—and Gob lifted her in the air a little in the process.

“Hey, Maebs,” Gob greeted back just as excitedly—or maybe even more excitedly, since Maeby was, after all, now a cool teen who couldn’t be  _too_  excited to see  _anyone_ , especially not her  _family_ , even if it was her cool uncle. But after quickly greeting her Uncle Michael, she smiled brightly and bounced on her toes a little as she turned back to Gob, her hair bouncing with her. It was one of those little things she did that always reminded Gob of her mother, and therefore something he would never tell her.

“Have you been practicing since our last lesson?” Gob asked. Due to how close New York City was to Boston, they met up every few weeks for lessons. While she wasn’t nearly as into it as Gob was growing up, she still had a fairly natural knack for it—especially compared to her cousin. Gob had given his nephew a few lessons when he was much younger, but he seemed even more tightly wound than his father, and he was weirdly fixated at going exactly 60 beats per minute.

“I tried a little on Gangy’s piano a few times, but I didn’t get much in,” Maeby said with a frown. “And I got in trouble when I tried to play the piano they have in the hotel lobby." She rolled her eyes. "Hotels are always so  _touchy_  about things like that.”

“Right? It’s like, why have a piano out if you don’t want someone to play it?” Gob said with a scoff.

“Exactly!” Maeby exclaimed.

It was probably weird that the person who seemed to understand Gob most in his whole family was his niece, but maybe it just meant he had a really cool niece.

“Don’t worry,” he said after a moment. “We’ll get you ready to be the next Clara Schumann someday.” He explained, “She was the best pianist of her time—well, second to Liszt, but that’s  _Liszt_.”

“Okay,” Maeby said with a laugh. She cleared her throat to change the subject and brushed some hair behind her ears in the process. “Anyways, I cleaned my ears  _real_  good. Can you check them for me?” She craned her neck forward a bit, as if to give her uncle a better look.

Gob grinned and put his hand in his pocket. He had already put a ten in his pocket in preparation for this, and he discreetly slid it into his hand. Then, doing the only sleight of hand he ever really mastered, Gob made the ten-dollar bill “appear” from behind her ear. “Seems like you missed a spot.” Maeby took the ten from his hand with a laugh and Gob clapped her on the shoulder before Michael gestured they should move on to greet more people. Gob sighed but nodded before following Michael back into the crowd.

George Michael looked at his cousin questioningly and she shrugged. It was a silly tradition and she knew it, but that was part of the fun. Of course, she also enjoyed the obvious perk. Maeby told George Michael, “He did it with quarters all the time when I was a kid and now he doesn’t carry change. One time I got a  _fifty_  out of him.” She shrugged again and stored the cash in her purse.

It didn’t take too long for Gob to spot Lindsay, seeing as she was taller than most of the crowd in her heels, and the sight of her made him relax all the more. Lindsay smiled brightly when she saw her oldest brother and wrapped an arm around him in greeting, her other hand holding a flute of champagne. She kissed him on the cheek and then, realizing she left a bit of lipstick there, she laughed a little and started to wipe it off as she asked, "So, how have you been?"

“I’m good,” Gob said.

“I guess it’s hard not to be when your face is all over town, huh?” Lindsay said with a grin.

Gob grinned back. “Yeah, it helps.” Gob looked around for a moment and then asked, “Where’s Tobias?”

"Oh, I don’t know,” Lindsay said with a slight roll of her eyes. “I’m sure he’s here somewhere.” Gob nodded. Honestly, he was good with not dealing with him right away; the guy always made him tense.

Speaking of tense, Gob soon tensed up even more as he felt hands on his shoulders. “ _Heeeeeey_  big brother.”

Gob pulled out of the grip, took a breath, and turned around. “ _Hey_ , Buster.”

Buster beamed at being acknowledged at all by his oldest brother. Buster was the sibling he saw the least between his own years away and Buster’s Milford training, and it always made Buster even more excited to see him. It still always shocked him to see how tall he had gotten, second in height to only Gob himself, and not by much. It was crazy, because Buster was still a little kid in Gob's mind, and he always would be, regardless of how old they got. It was just plain  _weird_  seeing him all grown-up. 

“How’s the, uh, card-ography class going?” Gob asked. That sounded right.

“Cartography?” Buster asked.

“Sure. That.”

“It’s…it’s good,” Buster said weakly.

“He’s actually taking a music class now, too,” Michael said with an encouraging nod. Typical Michael, always trying to get his family members to connect in some way.

“Oh yeah?” Gob asked. Buster was the only one of them who never attempted piano; Gob nearly smashing Buster’s hands when he had attempted to play his piano as a little kid seemed to scar his baby brother for life.

“J-just Native American tribal ceremonies,” Buster said shyly, already pulling at his collar nervously. “N-nothing big.”

“Cool,” Gob said simply before a waiter came by with a tray of champagne flutes. Gob quickly grabbed one and downed it in a second; he needed alcohol for sure to deal with the rest of the family. “There’s a full open bar, right?”

“Of course there is; Mother helped plan this,” Michael said.

* * *

 

Gob leaned his back against the bar, his second glass of whiskey in his hand as he surveyed over the crowd. He couldn’t help but notice that the waitstaff had some attractive men in their numbers, even in the hokey outfits. That definitely seemed like one way to liven up the party for himself, and a small grin formed on his face.

Noticing the look in his brother’s eyes, Michael frowned. “You’re not really going to try to make a move on a guy here, are you? In front of everybody?” Before Gob could accuse Michael of being homophobic, Michael said, “I didn’t think you wanted to be out in front of everyone.”

Gob sighed; Michael had a point there. While the classical music community was more accepting than other fields, there could still be a lot of stuffy conservatives who preferred that stuff staying on the down-low.

And, of course, there was the whole family thing.

When it came to his family, Gob was in a weird state of flux regarding how “out” he was. Seth had referred to it as “the glass closet”, which Gob at first thought was some thing about feminism and jobs and stuff, but apparently that was the glass ceiling or something, but the glass  _closet_  was a gay thing. It was when someone wasn’t  _out_ , but everyone  _knew_. Like Jodie Foster. Or Tchaikovsky.

...That last one might’ve just been something only people like Seth and Gob knew nowadays.

But, anyways, that glass closet thing described Gob's situation both with the public and his family. Sort of. When it came to the public, Gob didn't openly advertise his sexuality. You know, he hooked up with some people who came to his concerts and stuff, but he never really brought a date or boyfriend or whatever to any functions. He liked to use the word  _artistic_ to describe himself more than any other word, but that was really only something his family would understand.

So, yeah, when it came to his family, he actually only ever  _really_  came out to Lindsay, and it wasn’t really in the best way, seeing as he was not in the best state of mind at the time. Yeah, Michael found out on accident before anyone else, but Gob had never  _told_  him he was gay, Michael just assumed he was after he found him making out with a guy. And his dad had just guessed it after making fun of him and his “limp wrists” for years. Gob had  _sort of_  confirmed it with his dad after showing that his wrist was far from limp, but besides that, he had never _said_  anything to anyone else in his family.

So, it made this awkward elephant in the room—or maybe it was in the closet with Gob, but that would make for a pretty tight fit and he wasn’t really sure it worked with the metaphor? Whatever. The point was, it was like how they acted when it came to his mom and uncle Oscar's past relationship; it just wasn’t something they discussed. So, Gob didn’t really know who knew and who didn’t.

Like, for example, his mom. His mom had made comments at Michael’s wedding that made it pretty clear that she knew, and she seemed mostly tolerant of it, but she still had never actually  _called_  him gay, and Gob had never confirmed that he was gay using those actual words, and now they just avoided talking about his private life. They’d call each other and talk about his concerts—his mom had even flown out east for a few of them—but she never asked much about his personal life, and he never volunteered that information willingly to her, even when he actually had serious boyfriends. She had only met Seth once, and that was before their relationship had even been official. 

Then there was Buster. Buster seemed utterly clueless, as he usually was when it came to everything, but he was so close to their mom that he  _had_  to know by  _now_ , right? He still lived with their father, and Gob assumed his name had to come up at  _some_  point. Buster was an adult who could probably put two and two together, right? But, then again, their mom had really robbed him of a lot of opportunities to grow up.

Then there were George Michael and Maeby. Gob had definitely never told them, and he hadn't brought a boyfriend around either of them since Seth and they were much too young to remember that, but he had no idea what their parents had said. He was pretty sure Michael hadn't told his son, since he had always been  _so careful_  about not outing him to anyone, which Gob obviously appreciated. Maeby also probably didn't know, since Gob figured Maeby would’ve told him if she knew. If she  _did_ know, it definitely wasn’t because her mom told her; Gob knew Lindsay didn’t like bringing up his sexuality around her family.

And that was because, finally, there was Tobias. Tobias, who had a way of getting his foot stuck in his mouth. Tobias, who had his flamboyant way of speech. Tobias, who seemed all too interested in diagnosing his patients as homosexuals.

Just to be clear, Gob had  _no interest_  in Tobias. Ever. Even when Tobias was younger, even when he had hair, even when he still had his medical license, he was  _not at all_  Gob’s type. Which was honestly strange, seeing as he and Lindsay had a bit of a pattern of being attracted to some of the same guys—they each had to have their own copy of  _The Outsiders_  on VHS because they'd consistently fight over who got to watch it, and that was before Gob even realized he was gay. But, no, that little guy really wasn’t Gob’s type and that was all well and good. He’d never try to steal a guy from her.

And Lindsay knew that. Or Gob assumed so. But with how Tobias acted and talked and, god, even how he walked and dressed sometimes (the cutoffs confused the hell out of Gob), she just seemed to be insecure about letting any gay man near him. Gob wasn't even really convinced he _was_ gay, but Lindsay had never asked and he had never volunteered his opinion. Gob was fine with just hanging out with his sister and his niece anyways. More than fine, really; Tobias also had a habit of trying to diagnose and analyze the family in ways Gob didn't like. Or, well, he had been until he lost his license. 

So, maybe Michael was right and he should stay more on the down-low—not that Gob felt like giving Michael the satisfaction of knowing he was right. He just made a small noise and started to sip his whiskey as he looked at the band they had hired. He wished he could’ve been playing for the party instead of just attending it. Ever since his mom made him play for a Bluth Company Party when the pianist didn’t show up years and years ago, Gob rarely had to do more than play for everyone at parties like this. Don’t get him wrong, he loved parties, but he liked actual parties, like his Gob Bluth Parties™, or big nights at clubs. Boring company parties like these? Totally not up his alley, unless he was playing piano.

But, then again, everything was better to him if he was playing piano.

Soon the boat finally left the harbor and Gob ordered his second whiskey. Michael mumbled something about how they should find their parents, but Gob just shook his head. “You know mom; she’ll be by the bar soon enough,” Gob said. And he, of course, had no interest in trying to find his dad in any way, either.

Sure enough, as more people started to make their way to the lower level where the bar and band were located, suddenly hurried over to Michael in a frenzy, Lindsay and Buster following closely behind her. “Look at what they’ve done, Michael,” Lucille said, taking off her sunglasses, her eyes focused only on Michael. “Look at what the homosexuals have done to me!”

Gob choked on his whiskey, and his mom finally noticed he was there. “Oh, hello, Gob,” she said, quickly giving him a kiss on each cheek. “I’m glad you could make it,” she told him, actually sounding sincere. Michael gave Gob a look and Gob resisted rolling his eyes. The twins had always insisted that Gob was their mom’s favorite right after Buster, but Gob was never convinced that her using his piano abilities meant she actually liked him as much as they said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Gob lied with a smile.

Lucille lightly patted his cheek before she turned back to Michael to complain about a boat of gay protestors riding alongside them. As the conversation started to involve Lindsay as well, her eyes darting briefly to Gob as she defended gay men, Gob decided it was best for his own sanity to slip away from the group for a bit.

You know, after ordering a (third) glass of whiskey.

* * *

 

Gob was  _not_  flirting. 

No, seriously, he  _wasn't_. But if he was, it wasn't like it was on  _purpose_  or anything. Could Gob help that he was naturally charming? Could Gob help that he had given some girls the wrong impression over the years? Could Gob help that it was fun to flirt?

So, okay, maybe he  _was_  flirting a  _little_  bit with the bassist, but it wasn't really on purpose. Honestly. He just wanted to seek out someone who spoke his language at the party, and the guy recognized him from some of the ads around town, and they started talking music. Gob really had no idea if the guy was gay or not, but that wasn't his focus.

Of course,  _that_  was the focus of George Sr. Despite years of ignoring his eldest son, it seemed that as soon as Gob stepped "out-of-line" at a public function—stepping out-of-line in this case meant lazily leaning against a wall and facing the guy he was talking to—George Sr finally felt like paying attention to him.

Feeling the need to break up the scene, George actually walked directly over to the son he had barely said a word to in well over a decade, and greeted him with a fake, tight smile. "Gob."

Gob looked over at his dad and immediately stood up straighter—straight as in  _taller_ , not as in more heterosexual, since Gob didn't think he necessarily stood like a gay  _or_  straight man, but technically everything he did was in a gay manner since, you know,  _he_  was gay, but that wasn't something he wanted to think of around his father. He just liked to think about how he was the slightest bit taller than his dad, and how that was even more noticeable when he stood up straight. 

"Dad," Gob said back. His dad offered him a hand and Gob shook it, his jaw clenching as his dad squeezed his hand much harder than necessary. He knew better than to point that out to him, but he still couldn't help but stretch his fingers a little once they stopped shaking hands.

"Oh, sorry," George said as he pulled his hand back. "I guess you aren't used to a real man's handshake. I hope I didn't damage those delicate fingers of yours."

It was not lost on Gob that this was the most his dad had said to him in fourteen-ish years.

"Not  _that_  delicate," Gob said with a fake chuckle. He wiggled his fingers a bit and then bent his fingers towards his palm. "I can still make a fist, so I think we're all good." George flinched a little and Gob smirked in satisfaction. "Besides, I've had real men grip me tighter," Gob said with a grin, his satisfaction growing at his father's glare. With that, Gob went back to the bar to get a (fourth) round of whiskey.

* * *

 

Blissfully, miraculously, Gob managed to avoid seeing his father again until George was making his big announcement. Gob had found a table to sit at, and eventually Maeby and George Michael joined him, but his nephew mostly stayed quiet and watched his uncle and cousin interact. 

When George started to talk about the next CEO, Gob spotted Michael standing up straighter with a subtle smile on his lips. It was nice seeing him smile like that; he hadn't done much of it in the past years since Tracey died. Or, well, at least not whenever Gob saw him, which wasn't too often. But, okay, as nice as it was to see his brother actually excited about something, Gob could've done without his father waxing on about how perfect Michael was.

Gob just looked back at his whiskey as his dad started talking about how the new CEO was the smartest and his favorite of the Bluths. That was all stuff he had heard before and known about his dad and how he felt about Michael. And, yeah, maybe Michael _was_ the smartest Bluth, but calling him the  _sexiest_ Bluth? That was  _really_  uncalled for; Michael had slept with, like,  _four women_  in his life and even  _he_  had slept with more women than that, so how the hell was  _Michael_  the sexiest—

“My lovely wife, Lucille.”

Gob’s eyes widened as he heard his mom scream with glee and people clapping all around her. It took him a moment to process what had just happened; his dad had just named his  _mom_  the new CEO. Not Michael.

And she also wasn't the sexiest Bluth, but, okay, his parents and sex were two things he never wanted to think about in the same sentence ever.  _Gross_.

Gob looked over at his brother and saw the shock and outright disappointment on his face, and Gob felt a strange, brotherly need to hurt whoever made his little brother look like that. Then their dad whispered something in his ear, but it did nothing to stop the look on Michael's face. In fact, it just seemed to make it worse.

Michael walked up to the deck of the boat, and Gob started to get up to follow him, but George Michael beat him to the punch by nearly jumping out of his chair and heading towards the step. Gob stood there awkwardly for a moment, halfway between sitting and standing, before finally sitting back down. Michael's son would probably handle it better; Gob was never good at comforting. 

“That wasn’t what I expected,” Maeby said, her eyes still focused on everyone congratulating Lucille. "He kinda screwed over Uncle Michael, huh?"

“Yeah…well, Dad’s good at screwing people over,” Gob muttered.  

Maeby turned to her uncle with a curious look on her face. "You  _really_  don't like Pop-Pop, do you?"

Gob snorted. "Your Pop-Pop isn't too fond of me, either." 

Not wanting to discuss it further, Gob excused himself to get another (his fifth) order of whiskey, and once Michael came back downstairs, Gob had a glass of whiskey ready for him as well. “Thanks,” Michael said quietly.

“You’re welcome." Gob clinked his glass against Michael’s and they both took a sip, Michael’s eyes soon falling on something behind Gob’s shoulder. Gob looked around and saw their mother still posing for the cameras and answering questions from various journalists who had come to the party. Gob shook his head and looked back at Michael.

“That’ll be you one day,” Gob said, trying to be encouraging.

Michael shook his head. “No. No, it won’t be,” he said firmly. He finally looked back at Gob and said, “I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t keep working my ass off to impress him, only to have him…have him—”

“Ignore you? Insult you? Pass you over without even being given a chance?” Gob provided for Michael. At Michael’s nod, Gob laughed under his breath. “Yeah, why do you think I stayed so far away?”

Michael sighed. “Yeah…I’m sorry I made you come to this.”

“It’s fine,” Gob said. “At least there’s an open bar. And there are some great views..." 

"I'm guessing you don't mean the skyline," Michael said dryly. 

"I definitely do not," Gob said, his eyes scanning over a waiter who just walked by.

Michael snorted a little and shook his head.

Soon after that, their mom was calling them over for pictures. Gob finished his (fifth) glass of whiskey and quickly told the bartender to make sure he had another one ready for after the photo op. While he wasn't quite tipsy, because his high tolerance from being a Bluth had only grown over the years, Gob was definitely a bit _looser_ than usual. Which was  _saying something_. He went ahead and gave the guy a tip with a grin and a wink before following Michael to join their other siblings in line for the photo op. 

Their dad was holding a camera and had been smiling at his family until Gob popped into the frame. Still, his dad was good at pretending everything was fine when it mattered, and it mattered when people from the press were there. So, Gob pretended everything was fine as well and posed for the camera. He could at least work that out easily; he had to get his portrait done for programs and stuff before, so he was good at posing in front of a camera. Of course, he didn't smile too often in those photos, but he managed well enough for the moment.

When his dad stopped taking photos, Gob tried to slip away with Michael, but then someone was calling out, “Wait, George!”

After years of being called that in professional settings, Gob responded to it by stopping and turning around, but Michael took a moment to realize they were talking to his brother. He looked back over when he realized Gob had stopped, shaking his head a little. Hearing people call him  _George_  was just  _so wrong_.

One of the reporters was gesturing for Gob to come back to where he was. “Can we get a picture with you and your parents? It’s a big week for all of you.”

Gob looked over at his dad, their eyes locking for a moment. Gob’s jaw tensed, but he didn't say anything. There was no need to make a scene over it and be accused of being "dramatic". And while George looked reluctant, Lucille gave him a dark look and he knew better than to argue with his wife. Lucille gestured for Gob to come join them and, after a deep breath, Gob did just that, slipping next to his mother’s other side and smiling for the cameras.

After a few photos, he started to leave again, but before Gob knew what was happening, they were asking for a photo of just him and his dad, the two George Bluths, the retiring boss and the upcoming artist. "Is that really necessary—" Gob started to ask as calmly as possible, his dad protesting as well, but then his mom slipped out of the photo and they were directed to stand closer together.

“Smile!” one of the journalists instructed. 

"Come on! Pretend like you like each other!" One of them joked, a smattering of laughs echoing around them. What kind of father would hate his own namesake?

George, to his credit, was, again, pretty good at playing along. He even wrapped an arm around his son's tense shoulders and had a fairly natural looking smile on his face. Gob's jaw, however, was tense as he smiled for the camera, the smile definitely not reaching his eyes. His dad's hand was tight on his shoulder, much tighter than necessary, and Gob tried to shake him off, but George just doubled down.

Through his fake smile, Gob said, "Stop trying to tear my arm off."

"Don't be so delicate," George said in a similar manner. "I'm barely touching you. You're so  _sensitive_."

"Sounds like you've been reading my glowing reviews," Gob said. Sensitive, emotional, creative,  _artistic_ —those were words that had been used to taunt him, words that were used to hurt him, words that his dad liked to call him to make him try to behave more "manly"; now those words were used to praise his performances.

"I don't read about what a bunch of queers think about you and your fruity music," George said.

Finally, Gob had enough. He turned to face his dad straight on and was about to tell him off when he noticed something weird in the water behind him. He squinted a little, positive for a moment that he was just seeing things. He had to be.

"Are those... _police boats_?"

Suddenly, there was a ton of commotion as his dad realized the boats were driven by the SEC. He immediately called his assistant to get her to empty the accounts; Lucille grabbed Lindsay and Buster in a panic and ran up to take over the boat; Michael just watched with bemusement, not offering any bit of help; George Michael looked petrified, like he was in trouble himself; and Maeby just looked confused.

But Gob? Gob was happy. Gob was smiling. Gob was  _laughing_. He couldn't help it. This was really happening; his dad was about to get arrested. 

"God, I am  _so glad_  I came to this," Gob said. "This is too good.  _Too good_." He laughed, completely amazed that his father really was finally going to get what he deserved. His father was going to _jail_. And knowing just what they said happened in jail made Gob laugh coldly.

"Looks like after all these years of hating me for taking it up the ass, you're about to do the same. I hope your cellmate is gentle." 

And then his dad punched him in the eye.

* * *

 

Gob wasn't sure how many shots he got on his father or how many his father got on him before the SEC intervened. All he knew was that, about an hour later, he was sitting at the police station with a soon-to-be black eye. At least his hands were okay, minus a few scrapes that didn't limit his motion in any way.

Maeby brought him a soda from the vending machine to put on his eye and sat down next to him, but the rest of his family had gathered near the door Michael had disappeared behind to talk to their lawyer. They were all waiting to figure out what was happening, what was going to happen to their dad, what it meant for the business. Gob didn't care, though; Gob was only there because Michael had his keys. If it was up to him, he'd be back at his hotel room dialing up the guy from the night before. Hopefully there'd still be time to call him whenever Michael was done with the lawyer.

He was just thinking about what the two of them could get up to later when he heard his name. Well, the name he was used to being called in professional settings. He stood up and squinted his good eye as he looked at the TV as a news reporter started talking about his dad's arrest. It was kind of satisfying to see his dad getting called out on television.

Sadly, it was satisfying for only a moment.

 _"Bluth's also the father of George Bluth II, who Newport residents might also recognize as the pianist set to make his west coast debut at the Newport Symphony in two weeks time. However, the younger George Bluth had a much less sophisticated day today."_  Gob felt his blood run cold as the TV started to display photos of him and his dad fighting, pictures that seemed like Gob had just started to attack him for no reason.  _"According to eye witness accounts, Bluth's son had made use of the open bar and had seemed ready to fight before the physical altercation occurred..."_

Gob swallowed, feeling his heart sinking in his chest. "I have to think the LA Phil is going to frown at this..."   

_"While he has received reviews praising his artistic performances, he seems to be quite unstable. Is his artistry worth the risk? This reporter thinks it might be time to consider hiring less volatile artists."_

The reporter signed off and Gob sunk back down into the nearest chair. He felt faint, woozy, dizzy, and sick to his stomach. If anyone listened to her, if people heard what she had to say, if they saw those pictures, they'd think he was some violent asshole with a terrible temper and a drinking problem...

"I've made a huge mistake."


	2. Prelude in G major

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prelude in G major (Op. 32, no. 5)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRLF3fwDbmU)  
>  by Sergei Rachmaninoff

**Prelude in G major (Op. 32, no. 5, _Moderato_ )**

By the time Michael finished talking to their lawyer and came out to talk to the family, Gob was barely aware of what anyone was saying. He was a bit woozy from what he had seen on the news combined with the pain in his eye; the soda can had warmed up enough that it wasn't really helping him much anymore, but he didn't feel like lowering it from his eye. Despite how out of it he was, Gob  _did_  manage to hear that Michael was apparently really leaving the family. He sounded serious that time, more serious than Gob had ever heard him be when he made one of those threats, and he followed it up by not only telling Lindsay off, but by storming out.

Of course, his storm-out was ruined when he realized he had to come back and get Gob since he had taken his rental car and Gob hadn't stormed out with him.

"So…I guess we should figure out how we’re all getting back,” Michael said once they were in the car. They hadn’t really thought about that when they had left for the party. "Do you want to stay with us tonight? We have an extra sleeping bag. The attic would be a little cramped, but we can make do."

Gob shook his head, the soda can still pressed to his sore eye while the other gazed blankly ahead. "I'm fine. Just drop me off at the hotel and you guys can take the car back. Or get a taxi—I'll pay for it."

Michael looked at his brother with concern; he kind of figured the news that their dad was in jail would be the sort of thing that would make him happy. But the face Gob was wearing was definitely far from a happy one, and definitely far from a look Michael was comfortable leaving alone right away. It was never a good sign when his brother got that unfocused look in his eye.

"How about we join you for some room service or something?" Michael said, starting the car up. “That’s always fun—right, George Michael?” His son nodded dutifully from the back.

"I thought you were done with the family," Gob pointed out.

Michael paused. "You've already more or less left, so I don't think you count." After a moment, he pulled out of his parking spot and quietly admitted, "Besides, I'm done with  _them_ , not  _you_."

Gob couldn't help but smile a little at that.

* * *

Once the three of them got into Gob's room, Michael sat Gob on the bed and finally got him to move the soda can from his eye to give it a good look. He winced. "Yeah, that's gonna bruise alright..." He looked around the room and spotted an ice bucket. "Hey, George Michael? Why don't you go find some ice for us?" His son nodded and left with the bucket a moment later. 

As soon as the door closed, Gob told Michael about the photos and what the news reporters had said. "Do you think they're going to fire me? Like, all the gigs I have lined up? Do you think they'll cancel?"

Michael tilted his head in thought. "Well...I don't know how your world works," he said at first. "But you have contracts signed, right?" Gob nodded and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. "Then, no, I don't think they will. They'd probably have to buy you out or something, and that seems unlikely." Of course, there was a chance there were clauses about things being cancelled for one thing or another, but Michael really didn't know, and he definitely wasn't going to tell his brother that at the moment. "Besides, this seems like it's mainly going to stay in California. I doubt that anyone on the east coast will care."

"Yeah...yeah, you're right," Gob said, perking up a little. "Besides, I could say I was trying to help the police or something, right?" George Michael came back into the room right as Gob added, "And  _he_  attacked  _me_. I can't get in trouble for defending myself, right?"

"Why did he attack you?" George Michael asked, his eyes concerned. He had never thought of his Pop-Pop of being violent or anything; he was grumpy, sure, but he never thought he'd attack his own  _son_.

The two brothers looked at each other for a moment. Michael shrugged, as if to tell Gob he could say whatever he wanted. Gob looked back at his nephew and said, "We've never really gotten along."

George Michael didn't look satisfied by that answer and Gob didn't blame him. And maybe it was the fight or the booze or the fact that Michael said his son barely knew him, but Gob just didn't feel like censoring the story anymore. So, Gob focused on putting ice in a towel instead of looking at his nephew as he finally said the truth.

"...I  _technically_  may have been the one to throw the first punch years ago. But it was before you were even born, and it was a long time coming." Michael nodded in agreement, expecting his brother to stop there, but Gob kept going. "He never liked my career choice, and I..." Gob sighed before continuing, "I never liked that he made fun of me for being gay."

George Michael's eyes widened a little. He looked over at his father for a brief moment as if to confirm if that was true, but Michael was giving Gob a proud little smile as he clapped his hand on his shoulder.

"...That's horrible," George Michael finally said.

"Yeah, well...that's your Pop-Pop," Gob said simply, putting the towel-wrapped ice over his eye.

"Where's the room service menu?" Michael asked to change the subject.

* * *

While Gob hadn't been invited, Michael told him there was some sort of intervention and Gob figured he might as well show up. After all, he didn't have rehearsal that day, and his mom had the best booze at the penthouse.

However, it wasn't so much of an intervention as a meeting begging Michael to come back to run the company. Gob just watched with slight amusement as Michael told them he had a job already lined up, even if he also felt a pang of jealousy. 

Apparently, despite what Michael thought, the news spread across the country, and apparently it spread fast, because suddenly Gob was getting calls left and right from his agent about all of these cancellations.

Baltimore didn't want to risk having him blow up.

New Haven thought it was better to buy him out of his contract.

Even fucking Omaha, Nebraska cancelled his part in their recital series. Fucking  _Nebraska_. 

Every time he got a phone call, it seemed to be his agent telling him that yet another gig that was over. Anna promised she'd find him work and she wasn't going to dump him or anything, but Gob wasn't so optimistic.

He just didn't understand it. He didn't understand how he could be losing every opportunity put in front of him, while Michael was immediately hired by another company. Did he seriously have no good will built up in his own community? Did no one trust him anymore because of a few dumb punches that his  _dad_  started? Was sharing a name with a man now in jail his own damn fault?

It didn't make sense that five minutes of his life cost him his career and gave him a black eye on top of it.

The only thing holding him together was rehearsals with the wind symphony at the orchestra. The conductor and art director liked him, the group seemed to respect him, and, while there were some whispers around him, at least he got to just focus on music and performing and making art instead of all the cancellations. 

"I'm just staying long enough to see Gob's recital, and then George Michael and I are leaving the next day," Michael said, finally drawing attention to his brother who had been silently drinking as he watched them all talk.

Gob nodded in acknowledgment at his brother and added, "I got you all box seats and there's a reception afterwards." With a slightly cocky grin he explained, "I made sure you were all on the list." He liked having that power.

Lucille nodded. "That'll be some nice publicity for us." Gob rolled his eyes.

"I can't believe the first time I go to our local symphony will be to see you," Lindsay said.

Buster mumbled, "Since Mother never took any of _us_."

Both Lucille and Gob rolled their eyes and scoffed at the same time. "You'd never enjoy it as much," Lucille said.

"Exactly," Gob said. "And Buster never remembers you don't clap in between movements."

"You don't?" Buster asked.

"No, you don't," Gob said, groaning a little. "Did you never wonder why you were the only one clapping in between movements at my recitals?" At Buster's slightly blank look, Gob explained, "Movements are the small pieces within larger works."

" _Ohhh..._ "

"Maybe you should teach them some etiquette before Friday night," Lucille told her oldest son. Gob nodded before Michael could interject and started telling them about how to behave.

Michael couldn't believe he of  _all people_ was getting lectured on behaving properly, but he let it happen.

Meanwhile, George Michael and Maeby sat off in the dining room playing Uno, George Michael still trying to laugh off his suggestion that they make out to teach them a lesson.

"So, have you ever seen Uncle Gob play before?" George Michael asked to change the subject.

His cousin's eyes lit up. "Yeah. It's a lot of fun. It can be really long sometimes, but it's _so_ cool." She put down a Skip card, though George Michael didn't seem to notice, and then played an 8.

"I didn't think you'd like classical music," George Michael said.

Maeby shrugged, "You don't know a lot about me because of them. Too bad the kiss didn't actually teach them a lesson."

"We could always try ag—"

"Or maybe the fight between Pop-Pop and Uncle Gob distracted them too much to remember it happening," Maeby said, not realizing that no one had even seen the kiss. "I can't believe Pop-Pop punched him," Maeby said with a frown, putting down a Draw Four card on the Uno deck. "I mean, I know they don't get along, but _still_."

George Michael felt a heavy feeling in his chest. He wasn't sure if Maeby knew why they didn't get along. "Yeah...yeah. I guess they never really got along." He picked up his glass of soda to have an excuse not to talk.

"Yeah, but you'd think Pop-Pop would be over Uncle Gob being gay by now."

George Michael choked on his drink and started to cough while Maeby played a Wild card, changing the color to green.

"You okay, pal?" His dad called from the living room.

"I'm fine!" He called back once he caught his breath. Michael looked at him for a moment before going back to Gob's lecture on concert etiquette. 

"Did you not know?" Maeby whispered.

"No, I did, he told—how did you know? Did he tell you?" George Michael whispered back.

"No. We've never even talked about it," she said. "I heard my mom and Uncle Gob talk about it a few times back in Boston when they thought I was in bed. It's why he moved away in the first place." After a moment she added, "Plus, it's kind of obvious, right?" 

"Why haven't you talked to him about it?" George Michael asked, not even acknowledging that he hadn't found it obvious.

She shrugged. "He obviously doesn't want to talk about it, so why bring it up?" She could be confrontational, but she actually liked her uncle and didn't want him to be uncomfortable. 

"Uno!" Maeby declared a few moments later as she put down a 5 in blue.

George Michael hadn't even realized they were still playing.

* * *

Gob swung by the model home after his last rehearsal with the orchestra with a bottle of tequila in hand. While wine would've been more classy, he wasn't really a fan of it. Well, he liked red wine. Sorta. Like, if he was offered it he'd drink it, but tequila was more his drink of choice. But, whatever, he was there to pay respects to his baby before Michael moved.

God, he wished he had the room to keep it for himself. 

He sat down on the piano bench, unaware if anyone else was around, and opened up the lid to the keys. "Hey, baby," Gob said quietly. "In a couple days you're gonna move again. I know that can be super scary, but Michael's gonna take good care of you, okay? I promise." He rolled his eyes and added, "Once he gets you a better humidifier for  _Phoenix, Arizona_." He knew the dry air in California was a lot, but Phoenix sounded even worse for his baby. 

Gob opened up his tequila and took a big swig. "But it's okay. Soon I'll have the Phil contract, and I'll be able to get a bigger place and keep you in my  _own_ apartment. You'll like New York." He had another sip and said, "I mean, I like New York, so you'd like it..." He paused. "I mean, it's not as great as California, but what is?" He laughed a little and then, realizing he was really trying to have a conversation with his piano, he took a few more swigs of tequila and set it back down. He didn't need to get all crazy.

He had just positioned his fingers back on the keys to start playing when that stupid "Für Elise" started playing.

"I need to change that ringtone," Gob muttered, pulling it out of his pocket. Seeing his agent's name on the contact, he felt his heart pound. None of the calls she had made since the boat party were any good.

"...Hey, Anna," Gob answered, his free hand running over the neck of the tequila bottle.

* * *

When George Michael was looking through photos, he came across one he had forgotten about. It was one of the few pictures he had of his uncle, one that his mom had hung up on the walls in the house. George Michael was two or three years old in the picture, so he didn't remember it happening, but he knew it was from up in Gob's place in San Francisco. His uncle was sitting on a piano bench in front of an old upright piano, and he was holding George Michael on his lap. His Uncle Gob was smiling as he tried to move his nephew's hands on the piano. He looked so happy, happier than George Michael really saw him look nowadays. Maybe it was because he was far away from George Sr in that picture.

If he thought back  _really_  hard, he could sort of remember bits of when Gob lived in San Francisco, since he moved away when George Michael was four or five. He could vaguely remember his uncle smiling a lot. He could remember his uncle being a lot more fun than he had been the last few years. He could remember him being, well, a lot more like the uncle he seemed to be with Maeby. Being away from his namesake seemed to make him a lot happier. They even had more fun eating room service together after the boat party than they usually did when he visited during the holidays and stuff. He was obviously a lot more relaxed with George Sr behind bars. Or maybe it was because his secret was out—there were hands on his uncle's shoulders in the photo, maybe a boyfriend's hands? Maybe that's what was helping him smile like that? Whatever the reason, it was nice to have _that_ uncle around instead of the tense and stressed one he was used to. 

He hoped _that_ uncle would visit them in Phoenix, the fun and relaxed one. There had to be orchestras and recital halls there, right?

…Well, maybe not. His family made Phoenix sound awful. But, then again, that was where his mom was from, so it couldn’t be all bad. He knew his mom had talked about moving down there again one day if his dad ever left the Bluth Company. He was pretty sure it was no coincidence his dad found a place that would relocate him to Phoenix. 

Still, George Michael was just going to miss California a lot. He actually liked his job at the banana stand. He liked riding bikes with his dad on Saturdays. He even liked going to the beach every so often, even if he had inherited his mom's skin that burned even easier than the rest of his family's. 

After carefully packing up the picture, running into his Aunt Lindsay along the way, George Michael packed up the car some more at his father's request. Once he got back inside he saw his father talking to his aunt on the stairs, but he also knew it wasn't a conversation he was invited to, so he wandered into the living room. He wondered if anyone was going to actually live in it; the only thing that ever really _lived_ in there was his uncle's piano, the same piano they were going to move into their new house in Phoenix. Just until his uncle had a place to keep it permanently, his dad had said, but part of George Michael wondered if his dad just wanted to at least have something of his brother's around. Either way, he hoped his uncle found a permanent place soon, because the piano seemed weirdly lonely without anyone playing it. His dad never touched it, except to dust it, and he hadn't gotten the same amount of lessons that his cousin apparently did, so it wasn't like  _he_ could play it.

George Michael sighed and was about to go back up to the attic when he saw something move under the piano. He did a double take and stood there for a moment in confusion.

"...Dad?" George Michael called out.

A few minutes later, his dad and Aunt Lindsay had coaxed their older brother out from under the piano and onto the couch. George Michael was a little uncomfortable seeing his uncle so upset, so he went back up to that attic. He probably wasn't invited to that conversation anyways. And, after a bit more coaxing, Gob finally talked to his siblings.

"They've cancelled me."

"Who? Newport?" Lindsay asked.

"No, no, the recital's too soon for them to do that. Besides, they like me." Gob snorted, "People actually like me when they give me a chance, you know. Instead of just f-firing me because of my name and some out of context photos." Gob looked down at his phone. "Baltimore, New Haven, even fucking  _Nebraska_ , they've all bought me out of my contracts. And those are just the more recent ones! And I was just stopping here to…to see my baby before you moved and Anna called and…” Gob swallowed roughly, his eyes starting to sting. "The Phil backed out." He should’ve known. He should’ve known his contract would disappear before it was even out. He really shouldn't have been surprised. But he was so hopeful, so convinced, and so  _stupid_ to assume he'd finally get his really big break. It was just the straw that broke the camel's back—or maybe it was the elephant's back, like the one in that dumb glass closet with him? Whatever. It broke  _something's_ back, and Gob had found himself hiding under his piano for the first time in years. 

Lindsay ran a hand supportively over his shoulder and Michael said, "I'm so sorry, Gob." 

"You can get other jobs," Lindsay said reassuringly. "They're stupid to think they can do better than Gob Bluth. Or George Bluth II, I guess."

Recognizing Lindsay's usual spiel for whenever Gob broke-up with a guy, Gob shook his head. "This isn't some break-up, Linds. This is...this is career ending." He ran a hand through his hair and started to rant, "I worked my whole life on one thing. My whole  _life_. And I'm good at it—I'm  _amazing_  at it. It's what I'm meant to do, and it's all I _want_ to do. And I spent years building up my name and practicing and competing and living off of nothing, taking horrible jobs, and not just playing for shitty, out-of-tune community theater productions—do you even know how many tearaway pants I own?—all so I could pursue the thing I loved without  _any_  of Dad's help. And now, because of him, I've lost _everything_. Because of his dumb name and because of the black eye that _he_ gave me."

The three of them were silent for a moment, no one sure what to say. After a while, Michael asked, “How much money do you have?”

Gob shrugged. He was never good with numbers; as the old joke went, musicians only had to count to four.

“Can you afford to go back to New York?” Lindsay asked. Again, Gob shrugged.

“…Do you _want_ to go back to New York?” Michael asked. Gob looked at him and Michael explained, “Lindsay’s not going back to Boston. And I think George Michael and I are going to stay here.” Michael and Lindsay looked at each other, Lindsay smiling ever so slightly.

“So, you’re not leaving the family after all?” Gob asked, smiling a little. He should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t.

“Aw, come on. We always knew ol' Micycle here would never really leave the family,” Lindsay said, referencing one of Gob’s favorite nicknames for their brother. Gob laughed and Michael rolled his eyes.

It was a lot like the good old days.

“Yeah, well…we’ll all be here. And I know with you and Dad—and you know how I feel about all of it, right?” He really didn’t want to keep working for his dad. He didn’t want to have to save him or the family business, but he felt a duty to do so. Even after all the bullshit his dad had pulled on him, even after what he did to Gob…it was complicated, and he didn’t know if he could fully explain it.

Thankfully, Gob nodded. “I get it, Mikey.” And he did, really. The business was always meant to be his and seeing something he had looked forward to running crumbling before his eyes couldn’t have been fun. And he wouldn't blame Michael for wanting to help his dad get out of jail, if only to help the business more. “I don’t know, though. With dad here and everything…”

“Dad’s in jail, Gob. And I don’t think he’s going to be out for quite some time.”

“Yeah, but you guys will still visit him. You’re going to be dealing with him. He’ll still _be_ here, he just won’t be here in person,” Gob said. “And…and, I don’t know, being in the same area as him just…I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t like _acting_ like this.”

"You're already doing better now that he's not around," Michael said. "We actually had fun the other night, right?" Gob thought about it and nodded. He actually had loosened up without his dad in the picture. "And then we could hang out more. You could get to know George Michael better—he's a good kid."

"And I'll be here, too. And Maeby," Lindsay said.

"...And Tobias," Michael added, since Lindsay seemed to have forgotten.

"Not really a positive," Gob said. "No offense, Linds." Lindsay didn't even bother to defend her husband.

"Speaking of, Gob..." Michael said. They both looked at him curiously. "You know that thing where gay guys know that other guys are gay?"

"Yeah?" Gob said. He actually thought his own gaydar was pretty awful, so he really only made a move when someone made it clear they were gay in the first place. Of course, he had no plans of telling his brother that his gaydar was defective.

Michael's eyes darted between Lindsay and Gob a couple of times before he asked. "...Is Tobias...?" Lindsay, who had wanted to ask the question but held back for so long out of fear of the answer, looked at her brother. 

Gob scoffed. "He  _wishes_."

* * *

Gob Bluth was not a responsible person, that was much certain. He had no idea how to manage his finances and hadn’t gone broke because of random irresponsible behaviors. Like how he’d routinely forget to eat, and when he did remember, he normally just ate spaghetti and eggs and other cheap things since, really, he hadn’t learned how to cook more than that. Though uncooked pasta still tasted just fine to him; he liked the crunch.

But, okay, the money saving stuff wasn't always because he was irresponsible. As someone who tended to be detached from the physical world, Gob just managed to save money naturally. His apartment in New York City was small since he never cared for having a lot of space; it fit his bed and his upright piano and that was all he needed space for. He had enough light from his windows that he never thought of turning on his own lights until the sun started to set, and he’d normally be out by then for one gig or another. Really, the only big expenses in his life were alcohol and public transit, but he often found ways to get around both of those when necessary. Which was actually normally through irresponsibility—and a lot of jumping over turnstiles when no one was looking.

But, anyways, the point was that Gob wasn’t very responsible, except when it came to performances and music and his career in general. He was always on time or even early for his work, and he was always prepared to play whatever he needed to play.

That much was even doubly true for his Newport gig. He had shown up to all his rehearsals early, did whatever the maestro (conductor) asked him to do, and really appeared to be far from the person the media made him out to be since the boat party fight.

And he continued to do so on the day of his recital. Gob was hours early to make sure he could warm up his fingers properly, and he mentally ran over his pieces, looked over the notes he had made in his music, and triple checked that the outfit in his garment bag had everything he needed so he wouldn’t have to run back to his hotel before the performance. He was sitting at the piano bench in the empty hall when the artistic director, Jason, came in.

“Feeling ready for tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Gob said with a nod. “Yeah, it’s been a good couple of weeks and I think we’re gonna do a great show.” He grimaced and added, “If anyone even shows up besides my family. Well, the ones that aren’t in jail.”

Jason chuckled a bit. “Actually, we’re completely sold out.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah. I think people want to see if you’re going to punch someone or not,” Jason said. Gob laughed a little himself. “It’s a pretty big selling point.”

“Too bad no one else seems to think that,” Gob said. “Pretty much every gig I had lined up is gone now.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah…your agent told me about all of that. Anna, right?” 

"Yep, Agent Anna," Gob said with a nod. Then Gob actually realized what he said. “Wait, she called you?”

“Yes, she did,” Jason said. He sighed a little as he stood at the crook of the piano. “She wanted to see if we still had our Artist in Residence position open for you.”

Gob sat up a little straighter. “Oh?” While he didn’t really want to be back in Newport, not permanently, a job was still a job.

Jason hesitated before saying, “We already filled it.” Gob deflated a little. That made sense; he had gotten the offer a long time ago at that point, and most artists joined months before new seasons started. Gob’s recital was during the off-season, but the new season was about a month away.

“Yeah, well…thanks for the original offer. And for keeping this concert and everything,” Gob said, standing up. Hopefully the recital went well enough some other people would consider hiring him. He turned around and started to leave to get changed when Jason spoke again.

“But we were able to work something out.” Gob slowly turned back around and looked at Jason skeptically. “The maestro enjoyed working with you, the finance team is loving the boost in sales, and the board of directors are intrigued to see where this goes.” He laughed quietly and added, “Anna was also _very_ persuasive.” He walked towards Gob and said, “Let’s go talk in my office.”

Gob slowly started to smile and eagerly followed him out of the hall. 

* * *

Before Gob got suited up, Lindsay and Michael visited him in his green room. Lindsay, with her make-up bag handy, quickly did some concealer work to cover the last bits of bruising around his eye. He was hesitant, since he hadn’t worn make-up since his high school production of _Jesus Christ Superstar_ —well, maybe once or twice he wore eyeliner for a costume party, but that hardly counted—but Lindsay was insistent. When she finished, Gob looked at his reflection and was rather impressed; he couldn’t tell she had put on anything unless he moved in so close his nose touched the mirror.

“You women are real witches with this stuff,” Gob said thoughtlessly.

Lindsay took that as a compliment and thanked him before re-applying her lipstick.

Once Gob changed into his suit, a black number with purple lining, and put on one of his signature belts with a G on the buckle, Michael helped straighten out his purple tie a little. He was obviously a bit nervous for his brother's performance. “How’re you feeling, pal?” Michael asked. He could always tell Michael was concerned when he spoke like that, calling people things like _pal_ and _buddy_.

“I feel great,” Gob said with such honesty Michael looked a little surprised. “No, really, I’m feeling really good right now. Promise.” Michael looked doubtful for a moment, but when Gob made eye contact with him, he nodded. Gob always seemed to feel good when it came to performances, even if everything else seemed out of order.

“Anyways, you guys should go back out there; I need some time alone to get in the zone,” Gob said. "And you should get a drink at the bar before the show starts. And make sure mom doesn't get too drunk." They nodded and told him to break a leg.

After some of his pre-show rituals, like drinking some water and doing some stretches, Gob made his way backstage. Jason smiled at him and, a few minutes after the scheduled start time (nothing ever started on time in the creative world), Jason walked onto stage to make a small speech before Gob would begin.

He gave a brief update to the sold-out crowd about the upcoming season, but Gob only really started to pay attention as Jason made the big announcement.

“On behalf of the board of directors at Newport Symphony, I’m excited to announce that, for the first time in our history, we will have _two_ Artists in Residence for the next two upcoming seasons. If you enjoy the performance tonight, you will definitely want to get your season tickets right away to see more of our newest Artist in Residence, Newport’s own George Bluth II.”

Gob grinned as he heard the audience clap. He was pretty sure he could hear actual cheering from some of his family, including what sounded like a whistle that was most likely from Maeby. He laughed a little and looked down at his feet for a moment. While he still wasn’t sure how he felt about moving back to Newport, he needed the job. And if all of his siblings were there and if his dad was stuck in jail, it couldn’t be too bad, right?

Plus, he had really missed his open-toed shoes.

Jason gave a brief summary of his credentials, even though they were obviously listed in the biography in the program, before heading off stage. He gave Gob thumbs up and, for good luck, told him, “ _Toi toi toi_.” It was one of those weird little things classical musicians said for luck that Gob didn't understand since what did _toys_ have to do with anything, but he appreciated it all the same. Gob returned the thumbs-up gesture and, once the lights dimmed, he rolled his shoulders and walked onto stage for his west coast debut.

He bowed when he reached the piano, as he had been trained to do for years, and sat down. After a moment of focus, he took a breath and started the Tchaikovsky, easily losing himself in the performance of one of his favorite pieces.

After the half hour or so piece, there was a brief intermission where the stage crew set up the chairs for the wind symphony and the members warmed up. After a quick tuning, the maestro came onto stage with applause, and Gob came back onto stage with applause as well for the Stravinsky.

Pieces with orchestra always required a different kind of concentration that performing solos did. Gob made sure to catch the maestro’s eyes before he started the first movement. He sat up straight but kept his hands in his lap as the conductor cued in the wind instruments. He had about two minutes before he came in, after all.

About a measure or so before his first entrance, Gob placed his hands on the piano. Again, catching the conductor’s eye, Gob breathed with him and [came in on cue](https://youtu.be/pyRX_bq3Tds?t=1m46s), smiling a little as the slow intro turned into an allegro tempo as soon as he joined, just as Stravinsky wrote it, and just as Gob liked to play.

What could he say? He liked getting to be flashy and flamboyant and a little manic.

Speaking of flashy, flamboyant, and a little bit manic, once Gob finished the piece and bowed and shook the conductor’s hand and all of that usual stuff, he came back on for his encore. And while he had planned for and practiced for a Rachmaninov prelude to be his encore—it fit the Russian theme he had created, after all—he sat down at the piano and immediately changed his mind. If this was going to be his new home, he had to do something a little different.

He had to do his signature composer.

Turning to the audience to announce his encore, as was standard, he said, “ _Transcendental Études_ , Liszt, _Wilde Jagd_.” There were a few murmurs from those in the crowd who knew the piece, as it was one of the hardest in piano repertoire; really, most Liszt pieces were on that level. He definitely also heard a few murmurs from the wind ensemble behind him, who had heard him practice his Rachmaninov prelude.

Gob had never really been a fan of following any plans, even his own.

After he got himself focused, Gob jumped right into the [flashy, flamboyant, and a little manic piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crprL4skrY4). This one didn’t have any _lento_ preamble to get into it, and he was actually a little sweaty by the end of it. But, hey, even Kissin got sweaty with Liszt; it was basically a requirement.

Once he finished it to rapturous applause (at least he thought it was pretty rapturous), he shook the maestro’s hand again. He looked more amused than upset at the change, so that was good. Then Gob bowed again and made his way backstage.

Unaware of the change Gob had made, Jason was just impressed by the performance. “Well, that’s one way to start a new job.”

* * *

All Gob wanted to do at the reception was talk to his family. Sadly, the days of rushing back to his siblings post-recital and getting their feedback were gone. Now Gob had to rub elbows with the donors first.

At least there was champagne at these receptions.

He greeted all the people Jason introduced him to, shaking hands with the men and being extra charming with the older ladies giving him compliments. He didn’t even get a chance to take a sip of his champagne until at least twenty minutes into the reception, when Jason finally left his side.

Michael was the first one to find him, and he smirked a little when he did. “I thought you said this was a Liszt-less concert.”

“You could at least tell me I did a good job first, _Michael_.”

Michael rolled his eyes but complied. “You were fantastic, Gob; you always are.”

“Thank you,” Gob said with a smile. “And, yes, I planned on doing Rachmaninov first, but I figured my new home should get a taste of my signature composer first.”

“Well, it certainly was something,” Michael said. Though he had learned some things by listening to Gob’s rants over the years, he never really figured out how to properly analyze or critique performances that well. He just knew his brother never gave less than a passion-less performance, and he was pretty sure he hit all the notes correctly, so it had to be a good performance. “And, okay, when did this new residency thing happen?”

“Literally just today,” Gob said. “Agent Anna called and they managed to work something out. Part of it is going to be me taking over for their retired staff accompanist, too, but I get to keep the title as well. And I'm actually quite the catch, apparently, because they got completely sold out after that John Beard guy reported on me.”

“So, this is like a publicity stunt for them?” Michael asked.

Gob shrugged. “I guess. But it gets me a job doing what I love for at least two years, maybe longer. And it’ll help me repair my image or whatever until no one remembers what happened. Then it’s back to the Phil, the Big Five, and then maybe Europe. You know, last time I was in Vienna I never even went to see the big graves there. I need to go back and get my picture with the Beethoven and Mozart cemetery plots and everything.”

“Is that really something people do?”

“Pay their respects to their favorite composers and take pictures with their headstones? Of course.” At Michael’s look, Gob admitted, “It’s…utterly macabre, but I want to do it.”

After a moment of thought, Michael just shook his head. “Well, you’ll get to do it one day, I’m sure. You don’t need to rush, though; Vienna will wait for you.”

“…Did you just reference Billy Joel at me?”

“At least it wasn’t ‘Piano Man’?” Michael offered.

Gob laughed and rolled his eyes. “Good. I’ve had to play that way too many times in my lifetime. It's a nice pick-up trick, though.”

They shared a brief hug and soon the rest of his family made their way over. Lindsay gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before telling him she loved the performance. As if following his wife’s lead, Tobias hugged him as well, and Gob did his best not to tense up too much as he hugged him back. His mom air-kissed both his cheeks and gave him a quick hug, which he assumed was most likely for publicity. Buster thankfully didn’t try to rub his shoulders this time, which was much appreciated, but he told him he was great and proudly said he remembered not to clap between movements this time. Gob congratulated him on it before their mom took Buster with her to go greet some of her upper-class friends.

The biggest reactions, though, were from Maeby and George Michael. Maeby told him that the performance was her favorite of all the ones she had seen him do, all while she hugged him tightly. George Michael, who had really only heard him play at family gatherings when Lucille convinced him, or when he’d come and play his baby when he visited, was kind of speechless. He didn't know his uncle could do  _that_.

“That was _so cool_ ,” was about all George Michael was able to say. He had never really thought classical music was something he’d ever get into, but his uncle either did some really great music or just managed to engage him in an unexpected way. Either way, he was really impressed.

“Right?” Maeby said. It was really only times like this that she showed any enthusiasm for, well, anything. Her uncle being a musician was probably the only cool thing about her family. Well, her Pop-Pop being in jail was kinda cool since it was pretty edgy, but it was definitely not as cool as being a professional musician, especially since he was a homophobic jerk. “It’s like he’s doing magic up there,” she said wisely.

“So, that artist thing means you’re staying here, right?” George Michael asked, Maeby also looking at him hopefully. They had just found out last night that both their families were staying in Newport for now, and having their Uncle Gob around would just make it cooler.

“Yeah, it does,” Gob said. “I have to go back to New York and pack up, but then I’ll be back here for at least two years.”

“That means we can do more piano lessons!” Maeby said. While she was pretty sure she wasn’t meant to be a pianist, it was how she got to spend time with her uncle, so she considered that a win. “Those are so much fun.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Gob said genuinely. He liked teaching his niece.

“Maybe I can start them again,” George Michael blurted out. “I mean, if Maeby likes it so much, it's got to be cool—and you’re so good at it and everything—and I’ve got a really good internal clock—I played woodblock in middle school band!” 

“Woodblock’s not really the same thing,” Maeby pointed out.

“Well, piano’s a percussion instrument, right?” Michael asked Gob. He remembered him saying that.

“…Yeah, I mean, you bang it and it makes noise,” Gob said. “It’s not exactly the same, but…” Gob remembered how much he struggled to get a four-year-old George Michael to loosen up when he played his scales; he wasn’t sure he really wanted to try that again. But Michael and his kid looked so hopeful. “…Sure, why not? I won’t even charge your parents’ this time around,” he joked.

“Maybe you should look into setting up your own studio,” Michael suggested. “You could probably get some good money from that.” Gob nodded; that was a good point. And, while he didn’t want to admit something so sappy, the idea of helping some kid like him find the thing they were good at like his own teacher had done with him thirty-ish years ago sounded pretty sweet.

Then Maeby suddenly asked, “So, if piano’s a percussion instrument, is that why there were only timpanis up there? And no strings?”

“ _Timpani_ is already plural," Gob said. After a sip he explained, "But that's probably part of it, yes. As to why there's no strings..." Gob had another sip of his champagne. He actually  _did_ research his pieces, so he knew the answer. "Stravinsky wrote it for piano with a wind ensemble instead of a full orchestra because he didn’t think piano and strings should play together. He thought the timbres are too different, because, yes, pianos, like a percussion instrument, bang something to make notes and wind instruments blow to make noise and strings scrape out sounds. And apparently he thought blowing and banging went best together." Gob smirked and laughed, "I mean, I can't argue with that; they're a nice combo."

Both Lindsay and Michael hit him on the arm and he held up his hands in surrender. He cleared his throat and continued, "But basses are a standard part of wind ensembles anyway, so he kept that, scraped sounds or not. But, then again, he also wrote a piece for piano and full orchestra, including strings, so who knows with him. He wrote a ballet that caused a riot and changed all of history. He was a wild dude.” 

"So you haven't met any of the string players yet?" Lindsay asked.

Gob shook his head. "I'm sure I will soon. I have to meet the other artist at some point, too, I assume."

As if on cue, Jason soon came back and quickly met Gob’s family before pulling him away again to meet the other artist. 

“I think you’ll like him,” Jason said. “He’s a violinist, if you didn’t hear, so he’s going to be taking over concertmaster duties as well, and he was recently featured in _Poco Magazine_.” Gob frowned; he had been featured in it once, but that was _years_ ago. Jason laughed a little, “And he’s a bit of a firecracker, like you.” Gob’s eyes narrowed a little, not necessarily at that description being used for him, but at the idea of someone being like him. He was used to being the showboat, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to compete with someone who was the same as him.

And it was going to be a competition, right? Like, they’d each get solos and performances, but if this was a shared job, Gob was sure there’d have to be _some_ sort of competition, even if they were on two completely different instruments. If piano and strings really didn’t go together, like Stravinsky said, it could just make the competition even harder.

So, when Jason stopped and tapped someone on the shoulder, Gob immediately studied the short figure in front of him as he turned around. Black, spiky hair; weirdly shaped goatee; a black suit with some pink lining…it definitely wasn’t a look Gob expected, especially since so many instrumentalists seemed to avoid color. He tugged a little at the purple lining of his own suit self-consciously for a moment. Something about the guy seemed really over-powering and a little bit intimidating, despite his short stature and friendly gaze.

"George Bluth, right?" Gob nodded, his jaw a little tight; obviously this guy had sat through the concert and had to know his name. The man offered him his hand and said, "Nice to meet you. My name's Tony Wonder." As they shook hands, he laughed a little and said, "I guess we're going to be working together for the next two years, huh?"

"Yeah, guess so," Gob said.

"Hopefully you don't get into anymore fist fights during them," Tony joked.

Gob fought the urge to glare as a strange feeling overcame him, a feeling he couldn't quite identify. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure he liked it.

And maybe it was too early to tell, but he wasn't sure he liked this Tony Wonder guy. At. All.

"Well, I can't wait to see what you two get up to together," Jason said, clapping both men on the shoulders. "I'm sure it's going to be amazing to see."

"I'm sure it will be," Gob agreed.

"Same," Tony said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist can be found [here](https://8tracks.com/valenciaperez/etude-no-3-in-g-sharp-minor-s-141)!
> 
> Hello and welcome back everyone who read the first fic in the series and welcome for the first time to anyone who jumped into this head first! I'm super excited to be back in this verse since I truly love it, and I hope people like this fic! 
> 
> The tile of the first fic was, as I made a note of, named after an étude by Chopin nicknamed "The Bees". This one is titled after the most beloved of Liszt's _Grandes Études de Paganini_ and, as you can tell by the tags of this fic, that's kind of a big deal regarding Gob and Tony's relationship. The reason it's marked with an "S" versus an "Op" is that Liszt's works were catalogued by Humphrey Searle. Some composers had their works catalogued by musicologists and then the sets are named after them instead of an Opus number. Schubert is D, Mozart is K, etc. Just a little thing I thought I'd point out.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading! I wanted to get both chapters up at once since they really go together (and because I wanted to make it clear that Tony _is_ in the story lol).


	3. Když mne stará matka zpívat učívala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Když mne stará matka zpívat učívala" from _Cigánské melodie_ (Op. 55, no. 4)  
>  by Antonín Dvořák
> 
> [solo piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TI41LumCpss) (transcribed by Eduard Schütt)  
> [voice and piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAOy1waBdpI)  
> [violin and piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UlktfcLNAJ0) (transcribed by Fritz Kreisler)  
> 

**Když mne stará matka zpívat učívala (Songs My Mother Taught Me)**

Gob hadn’t stayed in one place for too long over the years. After four-ish years in San Francisco with Seth, he went to Las Vegas and was there for a couple of months. Then Chicago. Miami. Denver. Chicago again. And that was all within _two years_. But after those two years, he finally felt ready to attempt living in New York City again.

But even when he got to New York, he didn’t stay in the same place for too long. Sometimes he’d get a gig in Ohio or Texas or somewhere else and be gone for a week or two or three. On top of that, he constantly moved apartments, always sure that he’d eventually find the perfect place for him, a place that wasn’t too expensive but still close to things he enjoyed and jobs he had, a place that felt like a _real_ home. None of them really had felt like home, so much so that he hadn’t even bothered unpacking at a few of them.

On the bright side, all of his moving around was why Michael was the one to buy him a cell phone and calling plan, so he didn’t have to pay for that himself. It was the only way to actually keep track of his brother, since Gob wasn’t good at telling people when he moved from one place to another.

But all of that was also why he had signed a month-to-month lease in his last apartment. Michael had scolded him when he found out because apparently that tended to cost more money and his landlord could’ve kicked him out at any point, but hey, it wasn’t like anyone taught him anything about mortgages or rent or anything. What was he supposed to do? Actually _read_ his lease agreement? Come on! But, hey, that “mistake” made it easy for him to leave. He just gave his landlord notice and he was ready to move.

Of course, the act of moving still wasn’t easy. Packing was not a strong suit of his, no matter how little he owned, and then there was the whole issue of the piano. While he hoped he’d possibly have space in Newport to actually have _his_ baby with him, he didn’t want to get rid of the upright he had. Plus, if he was going to teach Maeby and (insert sigh here) George Michael, they needed their own piano to practice on as well, so they could take the upright.

So, instead of just flying out with his clothes and shipping his sheet music, Gob made like a lesbian and got a U-HAUL.

And it was cool for him to make that joke, FYI; his lesbian friends even said so.

With some help from a couple of friends, including the previously mentioned lesbian ones, he got the piano bundled up in protective blankets, out of the apartment, and secured against one wall of the U-HAUL. Said lesbian friends actually did help him pack up everything properly, including the boxes upon boxes of sheet music he had collected over the years, all of his clothes, some photos he kept, his CD and record collection, and some other personal affects. Again, it really wasn’t much, but that would just make attaching the U-HAUL to his rental car easier, hopefully. Then he sold his mattress and bed frame, gave away some of the kitchen things he had that he didn’t see the point of moving, and he was done. After a couple nights of partying in the big city and hanging out with some friends, he hit the open road.

It was strange seeing the skyline of sky scrapers change to the country side as he drove. It was even stranger to remember how this was the second time he left New York City to move back to California. The last time he had left, he had known he’d be back some day, but he was excited to be going back home. This time, however, while he had missed California as much as he had before, Gob wasn't so excited about going back.

* * *

“You got here sooner than I expected,” Michael said once Gob got to the model home. It was only nine o’clock in the morning and Gob had left New York less than 48 hours ago. He looked at his brother suspiciously and asked, “Did you sleep at all?”

“Nope,” Gob said, popping the _p_ with his lips.

“…The fact that you are still alive to this day is nothing short of a miracle,” Michael said with a shake of his head. Gob shrugged. He really functioned his best on very little sleep. Well, except for the occasional weeks or months where he had to fight the urge to stay in bed all day, but that was often the result of spending the occasional weeks or months not being able to sleep much at all, so he figured it all balanced out.

“So, have you found a place for me?” Gob asked. Michael had told him he’d help him find a place to rent or lease or whatever for the next two years of his residency. Gob initially said he wanted something by the beach, but his stupid, practical brother ruined the fun by pointing out how places near the beach were more expensive. The real world always ruined things.

“I found some options we can start touring tomorrow,” Michael said.

“Why can’t we look at them now?”

“Most places don’t give tours on Sunday mornings.”

“Oh,” Gob said. There the real world was again, ruining things.

He sighed and looked around the kitchen; it already felt more lived in, even though Lindsay’s family had only moved in a couple weeks earlier. They had even put up a few pictures, and Gob could tell Michael had actually slept in a bed instead of in a sleeping bag in the attic. “So, which room is mine?”

Michael gave Gob a questioning look. “…You’re not staying here. I told you that before you left.”

Had he? Gob didn’t remember that, but he wasn’t always the best at listening to people, even Michael. “Why not?”

“We don’t have room,” Michael said. “George Michael and Maeby are already sharing a room as is, and I’m sure that’s weird for them.”

“I can take the living room; I’ve slept on a lot of couches in my day,” Gob said, not seeing the problem. “It’s just for a few days anyways, right?”

“…Gob, it could take weeks to get you signed to a new place,” Michael said. “Did you seriously never learn anything about the real estate world?”

“Some of us weren’t invited to business meetings with Dad,” Gob replied with a bit more anger than he intended. But at least it made Michael give him an apologetic look.

“Well, you still moved around enough…but, yeah, sorry,” Michael said. The coffeemaker behind him dinged and he poured a mug for both himself and his brother, making sure to get out the cream and sugar for said brother. However, to Michael’s surprise, Gob pushed the additives away.

“I take it straight nowadays,” Gob said. He grinned and said, “That’s about the only thing I take straight, huh?” He laughed at his _very_ clever joke and raised his hand to high-five his brother.

“Yeah, _no_ , I’m not high-fiving that,” Michael said.

“You’re just bitter you didn’t think of that one,” Gob said with a slight pout. Gob had another large gulp and then put his mug back down. “So, seriously, why can’t I just stay in the living room for a few weeks?”

“This is already a rough living situation; I don’t think we should add an extra person to the mix. And with the living room being open and all, I don’t think you’d enjoy it,” Michael said.

That was a fair point. “Yeah…And I wouldn’t want you walking in on me with someone,” Gob added thoughtfully. Michael nodded; he had honestly thought the same thing. Gob had a thoughtful sip and said, “I guess I can find a hotel or something.”

“I don’t know; I know you’ve gotten some money from the broken contracts and with the job starting, but that still adds up quickly.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Michael attempted to delay his answer and got help in the form of Lindsay joining them. “Hey! Linds!” Michael greeted her in an overly bright manner, obviously confusing her. “Want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Lindsay said. Michael got out a mug and asked if she’d want any cream or sugar as he poured some coffee for her. “No, thanks. I like my coffee like my men: strong and black.” She laughed and raised her hand for Gob to high-five, which he did since he actually _supported_ his siblings, unlike _Michael_.

“…You married _Tobias_ ,” Michael said.

“It’s called a _joke_ , Michael,” Lindsay said. “But actually, I’d like some cream, thank you.”

Michael handed her a fresh mug and the carton of cream and Gob turned back to his brother. “But, seriously, where am I supposed to sleep, then?”

“I thought you said he was going to stay with mom,” Lindsay said to Michael.

“…I was _getting_ to that,” Michael said tensely, his eyes darting from his twin to his now wide-eyed brother.

“I’m staying with _mom_?” Gob repeated incredulously.

“What’s the big deal?” Lindsay said. “You’re her favorite of us, remember?”

“I’m really _not_ ,” he said defensively. “I definitely can’t be after the whole boat party thing.”

“Please, I’m sure mom has slapped dad plenty of times in _plenty_ of places,” Lindsay said.

“Gross!”

“I meant like in different _locations_.”

“Oh my god, _stop_ ,” Gob said, trying not to gag.

“It’s not my fault your mind goes straight to sex!” Lindsay exclaimed.

That comment made him stop mid-gag to look at Michael. “…You know I wouldn’t want to have sex in mom’s place.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is this some attempt to get me to not hook-up with guys?” He shook his head and scoffed. “Why must you be so homophobic, _Michael_?”

“Is that really why you arranged that?” Lindsay looked at Michael suspiciously as well. “…That actually _does_ seem kind of homophobic.”

“What?” Michael said. “No! It’s not!” The two of them looked at Michael with raised eyebrows; it struck him in that moment that they seemed much more like twins than he and Lindsay ever did, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. “No! That really wasn’t the idea, I swear. We’re already over-crowded here, and you’re a grown man who should sleep on a _bed_ , not a _couch_.” They kept staring at him and he rolled his eyes. “You could still go to someone else’s place, and you were fine having guys over when we lived together, so it doesn’t really stop anything, does it?”

“Oh,” Lindsay said. She turned to Gob, “That’s true.”

Gob looked at Lindsay and then back at his brother before rolling his eyes. That was all technically true. “Yeah, but it’s different with them. I don’t even know if Buster knows; he’s kind of clueless. And it’s not like mom’s some member of PFLAG or something.”

“It’s just the best option right now. Mom already agreed that you could stay in the guest room. And you even have a piano to practice on there,” Michael pointed out. “I’m sorry if it affects your sex life, but…” He shrugged. Seeing as he hadn’t had sex with anyone since Tracey died, he didn’t _really_ see the big deal. “And if you’re worried about spending time alone with mom, don’t be. Between you looking for places and your job and all of mom’s club activities, I doubt you’ll see each other that much at all.”

“Fine,” Gob sighed. Even he could recognize that he wasn’t going to get Michael to change his mind.

“Besides, can’t you guys just watch _Dynasty_ to get by?” Michael teased. Lindsay laughed a little with him. They both never got the point of that dumb show that Gob and their mom watched religiously.

“ _Dynasty_ ended a _long_ time ago,” Gob said seriously. He finished off his coffee in a big gulp and paused for a moment in thought. The two of them _did_ get along best when they watched that show…Huh. “Are there other shows that would work?”

“I don’t know; don’t you have any that you like?” Michael asked.

“I haven’t had cable in, like, five years.” He moved too much to try to figure out some plan, and he preferred going out at night versus watching Letterman or whatever it was straight people did.

“Well, if you’re worried about her being homophobic,” Lindsay said with a smirk, “you could always try that new reality show. The one with all the gay guys.”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael nodded, though Gob looked confused. “What’s it called again? Something like _Queer Eye_ —”

"Woah!” Gob interrupted. “You are _not_ allowed to use that _word_. That’s _our_ word! Like, a black guy wouldn’t let me say—”

“Gob, it’s the name of the show,” Lindsay said quickly. “It’s called _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_.”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “Five gay guys give some straight guy a makeover.”

“And each guy has his own specialty, like hair or clothing or culture,” Lindsay said. “It’s fun.”

“Possibly offensive name aside.”

“Yeah…” Lindsay shrugged. “Maybe showing mom how useful gay people can be will help her be more like PFLAG or whatever. You can check it out; it’s on Bravo.”

“…I thought Bravo showed operas and stuff,” Gob said.

Lindsay shrugged again. “Things change, Gob.”

* * *

The night before his first day of work, Gob had dinner at the model home and listened to Michael lecture him on proper work behavior. While Gob insisted it wasn’t necessary because, duh, he _had_ worked before, Michael was insistent because this was the first time he’d be working in the same place for an extended period of time. Lindsay said Michael just wanted to feel superior and important, and Gob had agreed, but he decided to humor his little brother.

And, well, he _was_ a little nervous about it—not that he’d tell anyone that, of course. But Gob, as unrealistic as he could be, knew that he was definitely on thin ice professionally and he _really_ needed to do well at the symphony if he wanted to keep on performing.  

So he took a taxi over very early on his first day to make sure he was there on time. He met briefly with someone from HR to finish filling out some forms and then Tim, the conductor, took him for a brief tour of the facilities. It was all pretty standard: practice rooms, a large rehearsal space, storage, orchestral library (where the librarian helped him check out some music he would need for the day), some spare instruments. There was nothing too fancy until they got to an office with his name on the door. He’d definitely never experienced that before.

Well, okay, since it said “George Bluth”, it was kind of like when he’d see his dad’s name on the office door at work, but he still had “II” at the end, so it was different- _ish_.

God, the name thing was always an issue. He had actually considered telling them to call him “Gob”, which he considered his real name, but decades of habit made him stay silent on that issue. Ever since Miss Griffin, his first piano teacher, listed him under that name on her studio recital program, he had been using it as his professional/stage name. He really hated it, honestly, but it at least made people take him seriously in a way “Gob” never did. George Bluth was a concert pianist and, unlike geo-beads like Gob, concert pianists didn’t have to demand to be taken seriously.

Anyways, Tim led him inside his office and Gob smiled as he looked around. He had a desk and a chair, but the main feature was the piano surrounded by what looked like hundreds of books of shelved sheet music. Gob could’ve stayed in there for hours just looking through the books the old accompanist left, but Tim was telling him they needed to start rehearsal, so Gob locked the door with his new key and made a note to come back as soon as he could.

When they got to the rehearsal space, Gob was greeted by some of the people he had already worked with and a few people he hadn’t had a chance to meet yet. He shook hands, smiled, and was his usual, charming self.

Well, except when Tony Wonder came up to him. Gob felt that same, strange, unidentifiable feeling overcome him at the sight of him, and the feeling only grew when they shook hands. It was then that Gob realized that his goatee was in the shape of a small _W_. That had to be the tackiest thing he’d ever seen.

The irony that he thought that while he was wearing one of his many _G_ -emblazoned belts completely escaped him.

“Nice to have you back, George,” Tony said all friendly. Gob was sure it was just an act; he knew that Tony knew they were each other’s enemies and competition.

“It’s great to be back,” Gob said. After a moment, Gob admitted, “I honestly missed California all these years.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re from here. Big homecoming and everything,” Tony said. He shrugged a little. “I have to say it’s nice to be away from New York, but that’s probably because I’m from there. I think it’s good to get out of your hometown; I mean, who wants to keep living near their parents?” He laughed and added, “I guess you know that feeling, huh?”

Gob defended himself by saying, “I’m only staying with my mom until I can find a new place to live.”

Tony blinked at him a few times. “...I meant because of your dad and everything. I’d assume you’d want to live far away from him.”

“…Oh. Yeah. Right.” The very public fist-fight. The reason why Gob was stuck in Newport again. Duh.

“Anyways,” Tony said, “Tim wants us to get together some time to start planning some of our duo recitals. I have some pieces and themes in mind.” Gob nodded but didn’t say anything else. The fact that they were splitting recital times outside of their pieces with the orchestra was already bothersome, and he didn’t trust Tony to actually let him play an equal amount of time.

Thankfully, the rehearsal was getting started for real and Gob, after a small introduction, observed rehearsal and made notes in the orchestral reduction of the Shostakovich they were working on. Every now and then, though, his eyes strayed back to Tony. There was something about him Gob just didn’t quite understand.

* * *

Gob was never one for a routine, but he had fallen into a standard morning one over the years. Once he woke up, he’d force himself to have a cup of coffee—he still didn’t like the stuff, but it helped him focus—and then start to wake up by playing the piano. He’d carefully warm up his fingers, usually by playing scales and then either sight-reading a simple piece or trying to play something by ear. It was just a way to get the coffee to kick in and to get his hands ready for the rest of the day, like an athlete stretching before a work-out.

On his first few days of staying with his mom, he had to look at places with Michael first thing, and he left so early on his first day of work that he didn’t get a chance to do his routine. But on his second day of work, he went into his warmup mode on autopilot. He first played through some simple scales to get his fingers moving, playing quietly and delicately to aid in the warm-up process.

He was about to try playing something by ear when he wondered if maybe there was sheet music stored in the bench. All of his was still in the U-HAUL he was keeping at Michael’s place, and the ones he had collected as a kid, like his Foreigner and Bruce Springsteen, were at the model home as well, but maybe some stuff had ended up at his mom’s.

So, Gob looked through the sheet music in the piano bench, but mostly found some beginning books that he barely remembered owning. He was about to play something classical when he saw an old folder buried near the bottom. It was filled with various sheet music, mostly what looked like Petula Clark and some girl groups, like that one song his mom would sometimes hum when he was little—"Downtown". That was the name of it.

Slightly intrigued, Gob sat down at the piano and started to play one of the songs in there. It took him a moment, but he started to recognize the song and started to play it at tempo. He smiled a little and hummed to himself.

“Where did you find that?”

Gob froze for a second and then looked at his mom. Despite the fact that he had obviously woken her up, she didn’t look upset. In fact, she looked…kinda happy?

“I haven’t heard that song in _years_ ,” she said when Gob didn’t say anything. Lucille moved to his other side and gestured for him to scoot over. He did so silently and she sat down next to him. Gob watched as his mom looked over the sheet music with a nostalgic smile. “Oh, you found my old USO music.”

“You were in the USO?” Gob asked. He didn’t know that. Why didn’t he know that?

Lucille nodded. “I was a dancer and a singer.” At Gob’s look, she said, “You’re not the only musician in the family; I used to sing all the time. I even did a musical or two in high school.”

Gob sat up a little straighter in interest. While he wasn’t super into musicals, he had played for enough community theater productions and auditions he figured he might know ones his mom had done. “Really? Which ones?”

“Nothing like the one you did.” Gob rolled his eyes but his mom continued, “I don’t remember all of them, but in my senior year, I was one of the leads in _Kiss Me Kate_.”

“I played for a production of that,” Gob said, getting a little excited. “Cole Porter, right? Who were you?”

“Lois Lane—she’s Bianca in the play within the show.”

Gob had to think about the show for a minute, since he never really followed the plot that much, and snapped his fingers when he remembered. “Oh yeah, ‘[Always True to You in My Fashion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LsNPsP5Wwo)’, right? The slutty one?”

Lucille pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow. Gob was sure he had pissed her off, but then she smiled ever so slightly. “I guess you could call her that. I think she was just a smart business woman.” Gob laughed a little under his breath; that was one way to put it.

“I guess that’s where Lindsay got her singing voice.”

“…Yes, I guess so." After a pause, she added, “At least you got my musicality, if not the voice.”

Gob figured he should be offended by the slight on his voice, but that had to be the first time his mom had ever really compared the two of them, at least as far as he could remember. “Because you played piano, right?”

Lucille raised her eyebrow again. “You didn’t forget that I was your first teacher, did you?”

While some of the details were fuzzy since he was only four years old at the time, he could still remember most of those first few "lessons". He remembered his mom explaining what seemed like everything, and while he didn’t understand it all, he had listened, completely enraptured the whole time. “Of _course_ I do. How could I forget _G for Gob_?”

Surprisingly enough, Lucille actually laughed a little. “That did become your signature, tacky belts and all.” 

“So, Do you remember any songs that you played?”

Lucille shook her head. “Not from memory, and definitely not anything classical. I didn't play for that long.” She looked at her old music from her USO days and flipped through some pages. “I taught myself these songs, but I never had to play for myself or anything, so I’m not sure I could play any of them anymore.” After a bit of searching, she opened up a copy of a song Gob wasn’t sure he had ever heard.

“‘[Don’t Sleep in the Subway](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqP6-KHOklY)’? Sounds like solid advice.”

Lucille rolled her eyes a little. “It’s about making up after a fight and how you shouldn’t let your pride keep you from doing so.”

“...Still sounds like solid advice.” Lucille gave him the slightest smile at that and Gob put his fingers on the keys and started to play the song. She gave him the tempo adjustments and he soon got into the groove of the piece. It was a charming little song, and the change of textures in it actually made it a nice warm-up song. And, especially for having just woken up, his mom didn't sound half-bad singing along to it. Gob found himself singing along a little on the last chorus; it was just really catchy.

But then the sound of a drink being poured seemed to finally pull Lucille away from the piano bench. Buster had finished her breakfast martini; they hadn't even noticed him walking through. She stood up and Gob asked, “Any requests for songs tomorrow?”

She looked thoughtful. "You can play by ear and everything, right?" Gob nodded and she said, “Let’s see if you remember your Cole Porter.”

With a scoff, Gob replied, “If I can't remember my Cole Porter, I don't _deserve_ to stay here.” They both laughed and Lucille affectionately hit his shoulder before turning to Buster to take her drink. Buster looked between the two of them, his eyes wide. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

* * *

At the end of Gob’s first week of work, Michael picked him up from the symphony. Well, Gob met up with him a few blocks away. Gob didn’t need his coworkers seeing him getting picked up by his brother like he wasn’t able to drive himself or something, especially since he was already living with his _mom_ and _god_ why did he tell Tony that? While Michael scolded him a little for acting like a teenager, at least he complied.

“How’s work going?” Michael asked once Gob got inside with a pile of sheet music on his lap.

Gob shrugged and looked through some of his sheet music. He had some piano reductions of some of the pieces the orchestra was working on, a few solo pieces, and he went ahead and grabbed a piano-vocal copy of a Requiem they were doing that year. “Not too bad,” Gob said after a moment. “But we’ll see. It’s kind of cool getting to actually have a use for my union card.” Gob honestly had no idea how unions worked, but it always felt cool when he got to pull out his laminated card. It felt super fancy.

“Do you play anything with them?” Michael asked. “I didn’t think pianos were really in orchestras.”

“Not really. That’s why I had to do choir for two years,” Gob said, wrinkling his nose a little at the memory. Thankfully his collaborative piano and four hand piano classes helped cover the rest of his ensemble credits in school. “But they’re used in some later stuff. I’m mainly helping with accompaniment stuff for the choral stuff they'll do, or if the maestro needs to coach anyone's solos. Besides that I have my own pieces and sometimes, like, fifteen measures of piano or celeste.”

“Celeste? Is that some sort of song?”

Gob looked at Michael for a moment. Did he seriously not know that a celeste was? “No…? It’s like a mini-piano,” Gob said, his voice slightly condescending. It was nice when he actually knew shit his brother didn’t. It didn’t happen often enough, in his opinion. “It’s what you hear in _The Nutcracker_ during the [Sugar Plum Fairy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rapf3g_XvCc) dance, and they do that suite every year, so I at least have that.”

Before Michael could even think of some crack about Gob and fairies, Gob remembered, “Oh! and I have my own office. It even has my name on it.” Michael nodded at him and somehow managed to hold himself back from saying that he also had his own office. He wasn’t going to get into some petty argument about who had the better job.

“The other artist guy is pretty annoying, but at least we get to plan our recitals together so he can't force me to just be his accompanist or something." Gob was much more than some lowly assistant to him or something, even if he worried that Tony was going to treat him like that. "And at least work gets me out of mom’s place.” Gob lowered his voice to a whisper, “She asked me to _zip up_ _her dress_ the other day.” He nearly shuddered at the memory.

“You might want to get used to that or get out of the penthouse earlier; she’s hoisted Buster on me and she’ll need that help every day,” Michael said and Gob groaned at the thought. “But we’ll find you a place soon.”

“How many more do you have left to show me?”

“Only a couple,” Michael said. “But, hey, if you fall in love with a place, we can always stop looking.”

“I really don’t care where I live,” Gob said. “I just need a place that can hold my baby and me. You know that.”

“You should find a place you really like,” Michael insisted. “You need to make a place a home.”

“You sound like an after-school special,” Gob muttered.

“It’s true, though,” Michael said. “Come on, you’re here for two years; you might as well actually enjoy wherever you end up sleeping.” After a moment he added, “But don’t be _too_ picky; you don’t want to end up stuck with mom like Buster.”

“God, that's a terrifying thought," Gob said with a wrinkled nose.

“Can you open the window back here?” Buster asked from the backseat, obviously getting a little carsick, and obviously oblivious to what his two brothers had been discussing.

“I don’t put the child’s lock on like mom,” Michael said. “You can do it yourself, buddy.” Gob snorted.

“Oh?” Buster sounded both terrified and intrigued by the mere concept. He lowered it part-way himself and giggled a little at the new experience. He started to play around with the window, repeatedly closing and opening it again.

Thankfully, Michael pulled over at a complex soon after this new discovery. “So, this apartment’s a short walk from the symphony…”

That had basically been the drill of every place Michael had taken him. Michael would give him stats about the place, tell him about how close he was from the symphony, and then they’d go on a tour with someone from the leasing office. Michael would make notes and point out all the things he liked and didn’t like, things that Gob would never think about. He had never considered where telephone jacks were or if the bathroom had a fan, but Michael noticed every detail, which was kind of weird considering how many random faults the Bluth Company homes always had. Maybe things would be better if their dad had listened to Michael more.

The problem was that all the apartments and town homes were really starting to blend together in Gob’s mind, and the two new apartments Michael showed him that day weren’t standing out any more to him. Gob was seriously ready to tell Michael to pick one, when Michael drove them a bit farther from the symphony hall.

Gob squinted a little when he got out of the car. He wasn’t sure where they were, but it kind of smelled like the ocean. Huh. He liked that.

“Someone told me about this place today.” Michael pulled out the key the landlord had given him. “I haven’t had a chance to see it, but I figured it was worth a look.” Gob nodded and followed Michael into the bright blue townhome. Or house. He didn’t know the difference. Whatever it was, it wasn’t an apartment. Gob liked that, too.

What he liked the most? The amazing view. As soon as he stepped inside, Gob’s eyes widened at the windows. _Bay windows_! While he had windows and all in New York, and fairly big ones back in his last place, none of them compared to the ones he’d seen in California. The sun just shone so much brighter. And _these_ windows? Gob could actually see water off in the distance, and he figured he'd be able to see the sunrise over it, too. Or sunset. He wasn't sure which way he was facing. He walked over to looked out at the large windows while Michael started to look around the house with a discerning eye.

“It’s a one bedroom, one and a half bath, furnished bedroom…” Michael commented as he looked around, less than impressed already. In fact, once he got a good look, he decided, it was one of the worst places he had seen. This one had so many faults that weren’t necessarily deal breakers themselves, but together? Yikes. The other places were a lot nicer. Cleaner. _Better_.

“Sorry, Gob; I didn’t realize—”

“I love it.”

Michael looked over at his brother, who hadn’t seemed to move far from the windows, and raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Gob said, smiling as he looked around. “It’s perfect.”

“I wouldn’t really call it _perfect_.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Gob asked as he started to walk around.

“The wallpaper for one,” Michael said, lightly tugging at one of the places where it was peeling. “The kitchen’s pretty small and there’s no backsplash—”

“I barely cook,” Gob said, “And I don’t know what a backsplash is.”

“The shower’s small, too.”

“Shower sex is overrated; I’ll live without it,” Gob said with a shrug. Michael somehow resisted the urge to sigh heavily at that.

“You’re close to the docks and that’s a pretty sketchy part of town,” Michael pointed out.

“Michael, I lived in _New York_ _City_. I can handle the docks in _Newport Beach_ , okay?”

“Popcorn ceilings always have the chance of asbestos—”

“Holy shit, it actually has a washer and dryer?” Gob wasn’t great at remembering to do his laundry until he ran out of clothes, so not having to go to a laundromat? Score. “And I could definitely fit my baby in here,” Gob said, already imagining it up against the wall. “I can get a couch…a TV…”

Michael looked over at Gob seriously. This was the first time Gob was actually getting into any of the planning; he _really_ liked this place. “…Well, you’d have to get a bike until you got a car,” Michael said. “It’s a bit too far to walk to work, but it’s probably not a bad ride.”

“I'll just get a car first," Gob said quickly.

Michael raised his eyebrow as he saw the slightly embarrassed look on his brother's face. . “…You still don’t know how to ride a bike, do you?” Gob immediately started to stutter and Michael shushed his brother until he stopped talking, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little. “I thought you might’ve learned by now. Even Buster knows how to ride one—right, Busty?” Buster beamed and nodded from the corner.

“Well…I tried when Seth wanted to do the bike tour across the Golden Gate,” Gob mumbled, cringing a bit at the memory of Seth trying to teach him. Out of embarrassment and pride, Gob had been, well, less than pleasant to work with, and it lead to their first fight. To reference that song his mom taught him, he basically almost slept in the subway that night. It was the worst day in their relationship until the day they broke up.

He never liked thinking about either of those things.

“But I need a car to get around town anyways. I can find something cheap.” Michael still didn’t look convinced and Gob sighed. “C’mon, Mikey. You said if I fell in love with a place, we could stop looking.”

Michael still had some reservations, and he had a feeling he’d have to help Gob with some renovations—seriously, that wallpaper was such an eye sore—and he really wanted to get it inspected, especially that ceiling. But Gob looked so happy with it, and he had to admit that there was something very _Gob_ about the whole place; it was tacky and a bit of a mess, but still somewhat endearing and charming.

_Somewhat._

“That I did,” Michael said with a slight smile. Gob smiled back and started looking over more of the place, loving every single detail he found.

“Does that mean Gob’s going to move out of mom’s place soon?” Buster mumbled.

“Seems like it.”

Buster nodded and smiled to himself. He liked the sound of that. 

* * *

Gob rubbed his eyes with a sigh. He had searched all over to find a copy of the _Poco_ magazine Tony had been featured in so he could figure out more of his competition. Tony kept acting so nice at work, but Gob was _positive_ it was all an act. And every detail in the interview just made him even mroe convinced that it was an act and it made him all the more annoyed.  

_While classical music now has a hold over Tony Wonder, his showmanship first started when he was working with his now defunct band Black Magic._

_"I first just played for [Black Magic] as a way to make money. They needed a rhythm guitarist, and I could do that easily enough,” Wonder says. “But I started pushing them into new territory and got them to add some violin. They were the ones who had the idea for all the fire and magic, though.”_

_Black Magic, while not famous, gained some notoriety around the Chicago area during their time due to their mixture of magic and their unique, experimental sound. The band’s spirit is evident in Wonder’s demeanor, from his personal style to his performance practices, such as his virtuosic playing of show-stopping works by all types of composers._

Playing rock music along with classical? Flamboyant showmanship? Flashy pieces? Those were _Gob’s_ brands, thank you very much, and he did _not_ appreciate some other guy stepping into his turf, different instrument or not. 

_Of course, the band broke up shortly after Wonder left to pursue his master of music at the University of California-Los Angeles._

“Oh my _god_ ,” Gob said with disgust. Even now, years after graduating from the University of Southern California, Gob could barely handle the idea of having to work with someone who went to _UCLA_. It was no wonder that he didn't like the guy—and he definitely didn't intend to make that pun.

Gob turned the page to continue reading when, thankfully, the phone rang, giving him a much-needed distraction

Not so thankfully, the phone call was from his father.

As soon as the automated voice asked if he wanted to accept the call from the prison, Gob almost hung up. But, somehow, he said yes and called out, “Mom! Phone!” She called back about how she’d be there in a minute, but, of course, his dad was speaking just a second later.

“Lucille?”

Gob sighed. “She’ll be on in a minute.”

There was a pause and Gob knew his dad could tell it was him; his voice was pretty recognizable, after all. His dad asked, “What are you doing at your mother’s?”

“I’m staying here until I can move into my new place,” Gob said as calmly as possible.

“…You’re moving back out here?”

“I got a job at the symphony,” Gob said, as if his dad actually cared.

“And why are you staying with your mother?”

“Why do you care? Are you afraid I’m gonna _gay_ up the place?” Gob asked, lazily flipping through some pages in the magazine; he couldn’t handle having Tony’s face beaming at him while talking to his dad. “You should be so lucky; apparently there’s a TV show where a bunch of gay guys do that to some straight guy. It’s on that channel that used to show operas, so it must be even gayer than I am.”

His dad started building up some sort of angry response, but he didn’t get far before Lucille came into the living room and took the phone from Gob. “George?” Gob rolled his eyes and went back to his magazine. Well, tried to.

“You should be grateful for that; he’s the only one who’s getting us any good publicity, no thanks to you.” Gob looked up at his mom curiously; was she actually _defending_ him?

Lucille rolled her eyes. “I don’t care who punched who first, you still humiliated us by causing a scene on top of getting arrested.” After a beat, his mom sighed and said, “He’s staying here because I _invited_ him, George.” Gob looked up at his exasperated sounding mom and raised his eyebrows. He assumed that Michael had more or less forced her to take him in; he never would’ve thought _she_ was the one who suggested it. Gob smiled to himself and sat up a little taller. He had a feeling his mom might have just invited him to piss off his dad, but it still felt nice to know she had invited him to stay.

As their mom went to talk to George in her bedroom, Buster seemed to suddenly appear. " _Jesus_ , Buster," Gob said, jumping a little. He hated Buster's Milford training. "Don't sneak up on a guy like that."

"Why are you still here?" Buster asked. "I thought you found a place to live."

"Michael wants to do all these renovations before I come in. They're just painting and cleaning it up a bit. I'll be in there soon," Gob said, looking back at his magazine. He figured the conversation was over, but Buster didn't see it that way.

"And just what are your intentions with mother?"

Gob slowly looked at his baby brother. "...What?"

"You're taking up a lot of her time. And she's making me spend time with Michael—did you make her do that?" Buster asked.

"What? No," Gob said. "And, come on, we aren't spending  _that_ much time together. I've been working and practicing."

"Yeah, but she likes when you practice."

"Well, that's cool, but I'm not doing it to please her."

"But you're taking song requests," Buster pointed out.

"Yeah, just because I know she'd get angry if I woke her up with Foreigner," Gob lobbied back.

"You're making drinks for her before you guys watch TV together."

"Hey, I never saw _Frasier_ until now and I like the classical music jokes," Gob said in his defense. "Besides, I'm making myself a drink, so I might as well make her one, too." It made sense to him; he didn't get why Buster was getting so bent out of shape.

But for Buster, it was a lot more than just making drinks or spending time watching TV with their mom. Over the years, Buster had gotten used to being the main receiver of Lucille’s maternal love, and seeing anyone else taking up her time scared him. He had already been terrified of his dad's threat of making him move out after his retirement; he didn't want to be edged out by his brother, the brother who had barely been around for over ten years. 

"Well, you better get out of here soon," Buster said. "This is  _my_ place, and I'm not letting you take it over." Gob raised an eyebrow and Buster said, "You're not allowed to be me! How would you like it if I tried to be you?"

"What? I'm _nothing_ like you." Buster scoffed, and Gob glared. "I'm ready to get out of here, too. I'm just making the best of a bad situation right now. I'm not taking your place or anything." Buster just crossed his arms and pouted instead of saying anything else.

And, for a while, Gob managed to forget the whole conversation even happened. But when he went up to make himself a drink, his mom came out of the bedroom in a different dress for dinner. "Zip me up," she said and, without thinking, since he was already up, Gob did what he was asked.

Once she thanked him, he realized what he'd done. Gob froze and looked down at his hands with wide eyes. He looked over at Buster, who looked a bit smug, and then at his mom, who didn't seem to think anything of it.

"...Oh my _god_."

Gob turned around, grabbed his mom’s car keys, and walked out of the penthouse, slamming the door behind him. He needed to get out, and he needed to get out  _now_. 

* * *

After his freshman year of college, Gob had spent the summer hearing some whispers about a gay club in Newport Beach. He had been too terrified to try to sneak in at the time; it just seemed too risky. What if his fake ID didn't fool them and they called the police and his parents had to pick him up from jail and find out that he was gay and everything crashed down around him? What if someone he knew saw him go in and everyone found out? All of his  _what ifs_ centered around the fear of being discovered, of being forced out of the closet, of having to see his parents' reactions.

Plus, come on, how good could a gay club in Newport Beach be?

Well, surprisingly enough, the awfully named club seemed to have a lot of things other gay clubs did: flashing lights, lots of scantily clad men, and loud music filling the air. While he didn't have his expensive, custom-made ear plugs to help with that last part, he had gone into a drug store to get some cheap ones that would work for the night. He didn't plan on staying too long, anyways; he was just looking to get laid and find a place to stay for the night.

See, Gob figured if he was possibly becoming Buster by staying in with their mom and laughing at sitcoms and talk shows with his mom like him, the best way to fix that was to be the anti-Buster. So, that meant going out, getting into a club Buster would be too terrified to enter, and getting laid, something he was pretty sure Buster  _still_ hadn't experienced.

Well, definitely not the way Gob was planning on getting laid, at least.

Unfortunately, he wasn't dress to his usual clubbing standards. He could've gone to the model home and gone through his stuff in the U-HAUL to find something better, but he didn't want to risk running into Michael or Lindsay and having to explain what was happening to him—or how they seemed to be right about him being their mom's second favorite. 

But, whatever, he was hot enough that he was sure he could find someone in his T-shirt and black jeans.

So, with a deep breath, Gob walked into the Gothic Asshole and prepared for his first gay experience in his hometown.

* * *

It was still early when Gob snuck back into the penthouse the next morning, but he felt a lot more relaxed than he had before he left. Getting laid normally had that affect on him. Getting a taste of the freedom he hadn't felt since the boat party felt nice, too. He gently tossed the car keys back on the table in the entryway and then sat down at the piano. He figured his mom was going to yell at him soon, so he might as well warm up before hand.

And, just to prove he wasn't Buster, he decided he'd warm up with some simpler piece by Debussy instead. Buster probably couldn't even  _say_ Debussy.

Of course, that woke up his mother, and Lucille was almost tempted to close the lid on his fingers, but she managed to stop herself. Gob made a living—and made them some nice publicity—with his hands. Instead, she grabbed one of Gob's wrists and moved it off the piano, and he stopped playing to look at her.

"Where have you been?" Lucille was in her nightgown and a robe with a scowl on her face. Gob suddenly felt a lot like a teenager again as he looked up at her. But he wasn't a teenager. He was an adult, and he was allowed to go out and have fun and get fucked, thank you very much.

"Out."

"Out where?"

" _Out_." Gob went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of his parents' expensive whiskey. It was only nine in the morning, but it was always five o'clock in the Bluth household.

"Well, you should know I had to take a  _taxi_ to the club last night," Lucille said.

"Probably because I took your car to a _very_ different club last night."

" _You_ should've taken a taxi instead," Lucille said. "Or at least told me where you were going."

"Why would I tell you where I was going? I never did in high school," Gob said, and it was true. He'd just say he was going to one party or another and that was that. Sometimes he didn't even say that much. "Besides, I've been living independently for fourteen years, mom; I don't need to tell you everything I do."

"I was worried about you."

"You don't have to worry about me, because _I'm not_ _Buster_ ," Gob replied heatedly. "Even though you're trying to make me Buster, I'll  _never_  be Buster."

Lucille looked confused. "What? I don't want you to be Buster. I barely want  _Buster_ to be Buster."

"Are you sure about that, mom?" Lucille still looked confused and Gob had a sip of his whiskey to help collect his thoughts. "You've been keeping Buster out of here all day long, you've been hanging out with me and getting me to make you drinks and taking song requests and...and you made me zip your dress!"

"I've been keeping Buster out of here all day because he's normally at school during this time of year and I was tired of him being around all the time. If you didn't have your job, I'd do the same thing to you," Lucille said cooly. "I have you make my drinks because you're better at it than Buster because you actually drink. And I was genuinely having fun and I thought you were, too."

"I was!" Gob snapped back.

"Then why are you angry?"

"I don't know!" 

They both stood in silence for several moments, neither of them really sure what to say. Gob figured in something like  _Frasier_ or something, there'd be some heart-to-heart where they'd talk through things. Gob could tell his mom that he was sorry for snapping, that he felt like he was being controlled and contained in a way he didn't want to be.

Because, really, that seemed like the issue. Everywhere he went, he felt like he had to be this serious person that he just _wasn't_. He had to be responsible and reasonable with Michael during the whole house-search. He had to be professional and controlled at work, so much so that he wasn't even _Gob_. So having to stay caged in his mom's place, having his independence taken away, feeling trapped? It really wasn't jiving with him at all. Just getting out for the night and having fun made him feel so much better, even if the idea of doing something gay in the same city as his parents felt weird; he hadn't so much as kissed a guy in Newport Beach until the night before. It had been terrifying and freeing all in one move. 

See, Michael had been talking about making this new place a home, but Gob still wasn't sure how to make Newport Beach a home if he wasn't even himself. He knew he had grown up since he had lived in Newport, since he hadn't really lived in Newport since he started college. He knew he had grown to be more serious about his craft, and he knew he had developed a better relationship with his mom over the years, but trying to combine all of that while living in his childhood town and living with his baby brother was just...it was messing with his head. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act now that everyone knew he was gay but it wasn't something they talked about. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act when he actually enjoyed hanging out with his mom, but he only enjoyed doing that on _Dynasty_ nights when growing up. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act anymore that he wasn't the Gob he had been when he left.

But, whatever. That wasn't something he could talk about with his mom; he was pretty sure she wouldn't understand how hard it was for him to be back home. So, Gob just had a large sip of his whiskey and joked, "If it makes you feel better, I didn't sleep in the subway last night. It turns out Newport doesn't even have a subway system."

Lucille rolled her eyes, but Gob saw the smallest hint of a smile. "I'm guessing you went downtown, since that's where you can always go when you're alone and life is making you lonely." Gob laughed and she gave him a bit of a knowing look. "...Just make sure you're safe when you're there." She gently pat his cheek and then turned to go back to her bedroom.

* * *

Thankfully, Gob finally got to move in the next weekend. The move itself took up most of that Saturday. In an effort to save money, which Michael always tried to do, he had hired the least amount of movers possible; they only moved in some furniture Gob had ordered and then, of course, the crowning achievement of the living room: Gob's baby.

Michael lost the bet he made with Lindsay that Gob wouldn't cry once the piano showed up in his new space.

Gob busied himself with positioning it in the right space, testing out all different angles and positions to make sure he wouldn't be blinded by any sunlight coming through the bay windows or be unable to read any sheet music. Once he found the right position, he locked the wheels and started truly setting it up. He hooked up the humidifier, dusted it, set a rug underneath it, adjusted the bench to his height, and then went through the process of tuning it. 

Of course, tuning was no a fun thing to listen to, but the rest of his family dealt with it as they continued their tasks. George Michael helped set up the electronics, since he seemed to have a knack for technology that no one else in the family did. Lindsay hung up and organized his clothes in the closet and dresser. Michael alphabetized and organized Gob's sheet music, books (of which there were very few), CDs, tapes, VHS movies, and DVDs before unpacking the minimal amount of kitchen supplies and dish-ware Gob had—they'd have to work on that. And Maeby was the one entrusted with decorating the walls with the posters and album covers Gob had collected over the years. 

"This place is definitely... _you_ ," Lindsay said once it was all set up.

"I _love_ it," Maeby said.

"Thanks, Maebs," Gob said with a nod. At least  _someone_  approved of his taste. And, really, with the walls painted the slightly blue-ish white in place of the wallpaper, the place really wasn't as tacky as it looked before, even if the outside color was a bit too bright of a blue and the popcorn ceiling was still there. Hey, it didn't have asbestos, so what did Gob care? 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Food?" Maeby suggested. 

"Must be," Michael said, going to answer the door himself, only to come face-to-face with his mother and Buster. She walked in and looked around, her judgment clear even with her sunglasses on. Buster followed her in like her shadow; now that Gob was officially out of the house, Buster was back to being Buster, though he was sitting in the front seat of the car now. So...improvement?

"Hey, mom," Gob said when she came in. "What do you think?"

She looked around some more before taking off her sunglasses. "I've seen worse." Lindsay and Michael raised their eyebrows; that was high praise coming from her.

Gob knew that as well. "Thanks."

Everyone stayed for food and some small talk, but they didn't do that much. Gob played some songs, his very first song to christen the place being "[Seaside Rendezvous](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36nqGs_Dvws)". He lived by the ocean now, after all, which was basically like a sea, right? He didn't know the difference. But he also threw in some Cole Porter for his mom and some more modern pop songs along the way until everyone started to head out, his mom and Buster leaving with them.

As Gob walked to his mom to the door, she said, "You know, the last season of  _Frasier_ starts on Thursday."

Gob gave her a crooked smile. "Well, you should have a good drink to accompany you, don't you think?" Lucille smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek in goodbye before walking out the door. 

He closed the door behind her and went back into his now empty house. He looked around and, now that he was alone, finally took out Lindsay's old, stuffed dove again and placed it on the piano next to his music, a rush of warmth running through him.

He wasn't stuck in someone else's place. He had his own space. He had his own car. He had his own freedom. And he actually had a family who wanted him around...

For the first time in years, he actually felt like he could handle living in Newport again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I want to say sorry for the long wait! Anyways, I've had a rough week or so, first with BoJack season five hitting me hard and then an awful cold taking over my brain. I struggled a lot with what I want to happen plot-wise in this chapter; all I had notes-wise was some Lucille and Gob bonding, but I struggled with what conflict I wanted to happen. But, well, I got something? It's just a lot of personal conflict that'll be dealt with further in the future, along with more conflict with Tony, of course. Hopefully you liked it!
> 
> Second of all, THAT IS REALLY JESSICA WALTER SINGING THE SONG FROM KISS ME KATE!! I am **obsessed** with that version and I seriously almost cried when I first stumbled upon that recording. SHE'S SO GOOD, HOW??? 
> 
> Third of all, I also REALLY hope you enjoyed the chapter song, even though the name of the song cycle it's from is...not that great. This is the most popular song in the set and is often sung outside of the cycle, though it's often performed in a singable English or German translation instead, since Czech is not an easy language for most classical singers to sing in (trust me, I know first hand). While the title literally translates to something like "When my mother taught me to sing", it's normally referred to as "Songs My Mother Taught Me", which is how the singable English version starts. 
> 
> There are several other arrangements of it, so I struggled choosing which setting to use, since part of me wants to keep the chapter songs to just piano solos, but I've thought about expanding to include other types of classical music. The idea of violin and piano, with the whole Blunder endgame and all, seemed great, but, then again, it was originally written for voice...so, anyways, I hope you enjoyed the song if you gave it a listen. The mix has been updated with a sung version of it [here](https://8tracks.com/valenciaperez/etude-no-3-in-g-sharp-minor-s-141). It's beautiful and, of course, the title just was too perfect for this chapter.
> 
> And, lastly, let me say that, as a singer, I have literally no idea how the lives of instrumentalists work. I played in orchestras for a few years and I know orchestral pianists do exist and I've read up on a lot of this stuff, but I'm not an expert on the career aspects. Please forgive me for anything that's not 100% accurate, though I can promise that almost any history tidbit I throw in here is accurate. 
> 
> God, sorry this note is so long. Anyways, thanks again for reading and for your patience! I hope you like it <3


	4. Rondo alla ingharese quasi un capriccio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Rondo alla ingharese quasi un capriccio", Op. 129](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XFMZs_7nOA)  
>  By Ludwig van Beethoven

**** "Rondo alla ingharese quasi un capriccio (** **Rage Over a Lost Penny, Vented in a Caprice)"**  
**

"This is seriously the most Gob Bluth house I could ever imagine."

Gob laughed and looked it over himself; he really loved the place. "I thought the same thing," Gob said, "It's how I finally chose a place."

"It's definitely perfect for you—is that the same piano you had back at USC?" Gob nodded and the other man whistled. After a moment, he grinned and said, "What's the bedroom like?"

Gob grinned back, "That's actually the best part." The two looked at each other for a moment longer before picking up where they had left off about fifteen years ago. After all that time, Gob couldn't believe he finally,  _finally_ got Derrick to come with him to his bedroom—in more ways than one.

See, in high school and college, Gob Bluth was a Party Animal. He was such a Party Animal that, yes, the capital letters were necessary.  If he wasn’t throwing one of his epic Gob Bluth Parties™—and, yes, Gob Bluth Parties™ was also capitalized on purpose and _definitely_ worthy of a trademark—Gob was providing money for alcohol, drugs, music, whatever. Gob was also just the life and soul of the party; everyone said the party didn’t really start until he was there. There was a reason that “Don’t Stop Me Now” was his theme song, after all, even if both Lindsay and Michael still winced a bit when they thought about a particularly painful performance Gob had given at one of the aforementioned Gob Bluth Parties™ he threw in college.

Gob liked to pretend that he didn't remember most of that night, but he remembered a lot of it, like coming out to Lindsay in one of the worst ways possible, trying to light his ex-boyfriend’s shirt on fire after covering it with vodka, and eventually sobbing about said ex-boyfriend after his sister and Tracey got everyone to leave. Everyone included Derrick, who Gob had flirted with all night. Gob  _especially_ remembered the lack of sex with Derrick part.

But about a month and a half into his residency at the Newport Orchestra, there was a big Hot Cops-centric event at the Queen Mary, one of the gay clubs in town. And, yeah, Gob had become somewhat familiar with their work during his days at USC since they performed in a lot of places around southern California. And, yeah, Gob had been a stripper for a while to make ends meet, so he had a respect for the craft. And,  _yeah_ , he always liked a man who could pull off a uniform in more ways than one. So,  ** _yeah_** , Gob made sure to get there extra early.

You could imagine his surprise when he recognized Derrick, AKA  _The Fuck That Got Away_ , as one of the dancers.

Gob immediately slipped backstage after the show and found him in a dressing room. Derrick was, thankfully, happy to see him and the two caught up a bit. Derrick explained how he was a choir teacher who did Hot Cops on the side for extra cash, and also just because it was fun. Gob, in turn, told him about his own experience working as a stripper, but he didn’t need to mention much about his career because, come on, he had made some headlines already. And before Gob knew what was happening, he was being introduced to Derrick’s co-workers and they invited him to join them for a post-show drink. He was his usual charming self and soon they were calling him an honorary Hot Cop and asking him about the symphony job and the upcoming concert and they were all drunk enough to say they would totally be there. Gob was sure they wouldn’t follow through when they sobered up, but it was still nice to hear.

It was also just nice to make friends outside of work, since it was one of the few things missing from his life since he got back to Newport. He, as the Party Animal he was, had naturally fallen into the gay clubbing scene despite his anxiety about being gay back in his hometown. He found his home bases at the Gothic Asshole and the Queen Mary, but he explored a few other places as well. Being close to the “sketchy” part of town meant he could easily get a hold of some weed when he felt the urge to light up—which, yeah, he did. A lot. And soon enough, Gob was spending his weekends doing what he did best: living large, partying all night, and getting laid in the process. But now he could get high with other people if he wanted. And maybe even fuck, since most of them were gay, and Gob was definitely cool with starting a little black book out in Newport.

So, yeah, going to the Hot Cops show really had been a great choice for him, and not just because he got to have a hook up over a decade in the making.

But, okay, it was really awesome that he _finally_ got fucked into the mattress by Derrick with the promise of more times to come—in more ways than one.

* * *

_…1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5…4 3 2 1 3 2 1…1 2 3 5 3 2 1…_

Gob smiled as best as he could as George Michael looked up at him from the piano bench in the model home. “Good, yeah,” Gob said. “That’s C major all right.” And it _had_ been all right, notes and fingers and all, but _god_ was Gob having some major déjà vu. George Michael clearly suffered from the same sort of problem Michael did; he could tell he was thinking through every step and every note, instead of just letting it all flow naturally out of him.

He hated to think it, but George Michael was possibly even _more_ tentative and nervous about it all than Michael had been. 

But, hey, Gob owed him lessons, and he _was_ trying, and if Gob truly was going to open his own studio someday, which seemed like a good idea for extra money while he was stuck in Newport, he had to learn to deal with students who weren’t naturally talented. He wasn’t quite sure he had the temperament for the job, but he knew the papers, not to mention Michael, would freak out if he went the Hot Cops route to make extra money like Derrick did.

“Okay, A-flat major on the right hand.” George Michael barely played the first note before Gob pushed his hand off the keys. “Thumbs don’t play on the black keys in scales. _Ever_.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry,” George Michael said sheepishly.

Gob moved his own right hand to the A-flat closest to him and put his middle finger, finger 3, on A-flat. He slowly played the scale up and down to show George Michael again how it went, saying the fingering out loud as he maneuvered the fingers on his hand to play it all smoothly. George Michael nodded and tried it again, and while he got all the fingerings right that time, he was still obviously struggling with making it all smooth, and he was tensing up all around his shoulders in concentration.  

“George Michael…” Gob sighed. “You’ve gotta relax, man.”

“That’s what I keep telling him!” Maeby exclaimed from the couch.

“It’s hard to relax on command,” George Michael mumbled.

Gob held back the urge to shake his head as he tried to think of what he could do to help. He actually had to teach someone years ago in college for a class, but he hadn’t done much teaching besides that and his lessons with Maeby. And Maeby seemed to naturally _get it_ , but when she didn’t _get it_ , she at least had the confidence to bluff her way through it and act like any accidents she made were on purpose. She was good with thinking on her feet. Or on the bench, rather, seeing as Gob hadn’t started her on much pedal work yet.

“Hey, Maebs, come over here,” Gob said after a moment. She dutifully came over and Gob put his hand on George Michael’s lower back to help aid his posture. “Sit up straight,” he told George Michael. George Michael did that, but went too far, his shoulders and neck tensing, which Gob had expected. “Maeby, put your hands on his shoulders to help position him—”

Gob cut himself off because as soon as Maeby touched him, George Michael tensed up even more. “…Never mind,” he said. Maeby dropped her hands at her sides and Gob looked down at his watch.

“We should probably wrap this up anyways,” Gob said, immediately walking over to the little bar area they had set up in the living room to pour himself the last of the whiskey. “Keep working on those scales, but not too hard, okay? You can’t force this stuff. You can practice, and keep trying, but then you have to trust yourself and let it happen.”

George Michael opened his mouth as if he was going to ask what his uncle meant by that, but he saw Maeby nodding along in agreement and he closed his mouth. He already looked dumb enough in front of her during all these lessons, which was definitely the exact opposite of why he wanted to try to take lessons in the first place.

* * *

When he took the job, Gob honestly hadn’t expected to play for the first concert of the season, since most orchestra pieces didn’t require a piano part, but Tim and Jason had programmed Ravel’s [Boléro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZDiaRZy0Ak) for the first concert, which meant Gob had a celesta part to play. Why they chose _that_ piece instead of literally anything else Gob didn’t quite understand; _Boléro_ , while popular, was repetitive as hell, and basically consisted of fifteen minutes of a drum beat and a theme the orchestra kept trading around. _God_ , it was such a letdown for the first piece he’d be doing with them as part of the actual symphony and part of the residency.

The celesta part lasted for _sixteen measures_. Seventeen if you counted a note that held over to the next measure, but that was only really to mark the cut off on the downbeat. Even the _harp_ played more than him.  _The. Harp._

So, Gob just had to sit there for the first seven minutes, [play for less than a minute](https://youtu.be/dZDiaRZy0Ak?t=422), and then continue to sit in silence for another seven-ish minutes while looking professional and not letting himself get so distracted that he forgot he was in a performance. It was like the worst version of _4’33”_ , because it was much longer and it sounded like _something_ he had heard before but he couldn’t tell _what_ it was, but it was bugging the hell out of him.

But at least the lack of notes meant he was getting paid a lot more per note than Tony was. That was how percussionists in the past told him how they thought of that, and he enjoyed that idea a lot.

The concert was great, though. Gob enjoyed everything else, since it was a lot easier to enjoy music when he didn’t have to sit on stage in silence, looking all professional. He liked being able to close his eyes and just listen. Sometimes he’d move a little to the music without realizing it, sometimes very subtly, sometimes basically headbanging. But, come on, who _wouldn’t_ headbang to _The Rite of Spring_?

There was a reception afterwards, but not a VIP one like Gob’s recital had. Those were reserved for special performances, like solo recitals, not for regular symphony concerts. That meant they had to pay for booze—or, well, the concert goers did, whereas Gob just got to flash his smile and symphony ID to get a free glass of whiskey. He had just started on his second glass when Tony came over.

“Good job tonight.”

“Thanks. Those sixteen measures sure are tough,” Gob said rather dryly. Tony laughed and Gob added, “You, too, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Tony said. He looked around at the crowd after ordering a drink and smiled. “It’s a nice turnout, huh? I wasn’t sure what to expect. Hopefully we’ll get some more people next week after the reviews.”

Gob shrugged. “Hopefully.”

Tony held back a sigh as Gob went silent again.

George Bluth II was simply an enigma to him. He had seen him talk with other people so easily, grinning and laughing and charming everyone around him with ease that he honestly envied. He couldn’t charm people nearly as well as Gob seemed to, at least not without really putting effort into it. But if Tony even tried to join in a conversation with his co-worker, the man would completely freeze up on him and normally find some excuse to leave.

It was difficult, especially when, while Tony felt some competitive edge with him anyways, he was trying to work with him on creating some combined recital programs and outreach materials for the school demonstrations they were going to do later in the year. Gob provided no help to him whatsoever; while he said he was fine with anything, Tony wanted to find him something he actually  _enjoyed_ playing. He wanted to find music they could even perform together, but Gob had gotten all offended about how he wasn't just some accompanist for him. So far, the only suggestion he had made was doing a bunch of songs written for the left hand, only because he thought it fit the theme of Tony only using his left hand to make notes. Which wasn't even  _true_ since it wasn't like he could actually make any particular sounds without a right hand to bow or pluck the strings.

But Tony resisted the urge to sigh and took his drink from the bartender, humming the song that was stuck in his head without really realizing it.

Gob, barely aware he was doing it himself, started to lightly sing along under his breath, “[… _and now she’s looking for a downtown man; that’s what I am…_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCuMWrfXG4E)”

They both stopped at the same time and looked at each other. After a moment they both laughed.

“ _Boléro_ ’s totally ‘Uptown Girl’, right?”

“ _Totally_ ,” Gob said, his face lit up with excitement at finally figuring out what song it reminded him of. “I can’t believe I couldn’t tell that myself! I’m an _expert_ on Billy Joel.”

“Of course. What self-respecting pianist hasn’t learned ‘Piano Man’?”

“ _God_ ,” Gob groaned, rolling his eyes. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten asked to play it back in my piano bar days. I used to play it for fun all the time as a kid, but now you have to get me drunk to get me to play it—and it takes a _lot_ to get me drunk.” As if to prove that point, Gob ordered his third drink.

“Uh huh…” Tony cleared his throat as Gob started on his third drink and asked, “You’re still a big fan, though?”

“Of course. Billy was one of my biggest influences growing up,” Gob said. “And, actually…he published all these classical songs recently. Someone else recorded them, but they’re really good…I was thinking of doing them at one of the recitals. You know, either one of ours or a solo one.”

“That’d be awesome,” Tony said, honestly just relieved that he was finally talking to him. “If we could form a whole band, I’d totally do ‘[The Downeaster Alexa](https://youtu.be/ZhijZuIWNUA?t=158)’ with you. That was half of what inspired me to try putting violin into rock music.”

“Tempting,” Gob said honestly. He had another sip of his drink and rolled his eyes. “Now ‘Uptown Girl’ is never going to leave my head ever again,” Gob said. “I can’t believe Ravel ripped of Billy Joel before Billy Joel was even born.”

Tony laughed at that. “Yeah. It’s a dick move.”

“Yeah…Also a dumb move when there are so many better ones to steal from.”

“It was a weird music video, too,” Tony chimed in. “It always made me think of, like, _Grease_ or something.”

“Or _The Outsiders_ …” Gob said wistfully, a small smirk on his face as he thought back on what had once been his favorite movie. “I should re-watch that sometime and see if it holds up.”

“I haven’t thought about that movie in years,” Tony said with a laugh.

“Me either. And I _wore out_ my VHS copy,” Gob said, still smirking. There was a _lot_ of eye candy for a very closeted, very young Gob Bluth, especially since he of course assumed he was Dally and even back then Gob had thought something was going on between Dally and Johnny.

It was amazing how even nearly twenty years later he was still uncovering early signs of his sexuality.

Tony looked at him curiously for half a second until Gob noticed someone across the room. Barely saying any goodbye, Gob left Tony to greet his friend with a hug and a smile.

“Derrick! I can’t believe you came for sixteen measures of music,” Gob laughed.

“Hey, I also wanted to hear the other stuff. I studied all that music, too, you know,” Derrick said with a laugh. “But you did a great job, Gob—I mean _George Bluth II_.”

Gob laughed through a groan and put his palm to his forehead. “Don’t. I really hate it.”

While Tony couldn’t hear what they were saying from the bar, and while he eventually started to mingle himself, he kept looking back over at his colleague. Every now and then there’d be a shift in his body language or a look on his face that made it clear that whoever he was talking to was some sort of… _boyfriend_?

Once that clicked into his head, things started to make a whole lot more sense, including the little comment about _The Outsiders_. He definitely had to be gay—or, well, maybe bi or something, but whatever. Huh. Well, _that_ was interesting.

The fact that he was gay was made even clearer when a group of attractive young men eventually found him as well, some of them in police uniforms—and was one of them a construction worker? Tony had no idea what that was about, but it just made it harder for him to _not_ stare at them the whole night. Were they strippers? Other hook-ups? Both? Eventually he saw some people Tony assumed were his family members, and Gob introduced them nervously...were they just now meeting his boyfriend? Was he not out yet? That could explain why he was so closed off, but Gob talked about meeting his brother for lunch a lot—unless he was really meeting his boyfriend and saying it was his brother in case he got caught or something?

George Bluth II was even more of an enigma than he originally thought.

* * *

Gob, desperately in need of a drink after the latest round of lessons, went into the kitchen of the model home and quickly found Lindsay with some wine. He immediately asked for some and she raised an eyebrow. “Are we out of whiskey?”

“Yep.”

“Gee. I wonder how _that_ happened,” Lindsay said dryly as she poured him a glass of wine.

“No idea.”

When Gob downed the glass in one gulp, Lindsay raised her eyebrows even higher. “Are the lessons _that_ bad?”

“Can you not tell?” Gob asked. Lindsay shrugged; she didn’t really have the discerning ear for all the things Gob listened for. She filled up his glass again as he explained, “Maeby’s was fine—she’s always great.” Lindsay smiled with pride; she didn’t always follow how her daughter was doing, but she was always happy to know when she was thriving. “But George Michael…” Gob sighed and had a small sip of his new glass. “I love the kid, but I don’t know how to get him to relax.”

Lindsay couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “What do you expect? You know his father.”

“True,” Gob muttered.

A few minutes later, said father himself walked in and asked Gob if he had plans for the night. “I have a previous engagement,” Gob said. “Why?”

“Did you see the paper today?”

Gob raised an eyebrow while Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Uh, no?”

“Well, Lindsay and mom got into a fight at a restaurant and made the front page.”

Gob turned to his sister. “ _Totally_ blown out of proportion,” Lindsay assured him.

“They tend to do that with familial fights,” Gob said. “At least you don’t have a black eye—unless you’re really _that_ good at make-up—”

“The point is, we have a real publicity problem in this family,” Michael said. “Between you two getting in fights with our parents and dad being in jail, things are _really_ looking bad for us. _All_ of us—George Michael got denied a proper interview at Milford over all of this.”

“Oh, _god_ , don’t send him _there_ ,” Gob groaned. “He’s anxious enough as is; he doesn’t need some school turning him into a full-on Buster.”

“Hey! Buster’s only like that because of mom and you know it,” Michael said defensively. “But, anyways, I’ve hired us a publicist and she’s been working on a plan for the whole family to help our image. I think you could use some help, too, not just with dad, but, _seriously_ , you brought  _strippers_ to your job."

"It's not like they stripped! They had a gig afterwards so they showed up in wardrobe," Gob said, truly not seeing the big deal.

Michael sighed. "Whatever. The point is that she’s coming over tonight, so if you can move that 'engagement'—”

“No can do, Mikey,” Gob said. “She should talk to Agent Anna anyways; Anna technically has control over that stuff when it comes to me...and I also really don't want to be here."

“It’s not like you really need to be here, anyways," Lindsay snorted. "Michael was just too scared to actually ask her out.”

“It’s not like that!” Michael insisted while Gob laughed.

“It’s _so_ like that and you know it!”

“Oh, Michael,” Gob chuckled as Michael remained all stony face. “Come on, it’s getting pathetic; even _I’ve_ slept with more girls than you.”

Lindsay laughed and Michael glared a little. “At least I never _cried_ afterwards,” Michael said dryly, making Lindsay laugh even more.

Gob sighed dramatically. “Making fun of your brother for being confused and _tormented_ about his sexuality?” Gob asked. “I expect the homophobia from _Michael_ , but _et tu,_ _Lindsay_?” They both looked a little guilty and he smiled smugly as he finished off his wine.

“But, anyways, I have my old friend from USC to see,” Gob said as if he hadn't just excused them of homophobia seconds ago.

“That's the guy we met at the symphony, right?” Lindsay asked, rather intrigued. “I've been meaning to ask if he's an old friend or an _old friend_?”

“He was an old friend until recently,” Gob admitted with a grin. “An _almost_ _friend_ that turned into an actual _friend_ when I ran into him a few weeks ago.”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “What took you so long to make him a _friend_ of yours?”

Gob froze. He had been thankful that they didn't recognize him, since he hated whenever they brought up that night. “Oh…just, you know, bad timing. I was with Dave and then he was doing his student teaching stuff…” His siblings could tell there was more to it and looked at him expectantly, so Gob sighed and admitted, “And I wasn’t sure he’d be so interested in me after…the party and everything…” 

“He's _that_ guy?” Lindsay asked. She winced as she thought back on that night. She had gotten a little drunk herself, but she could still clearly picture the guy Gob had been grinding against before his ultimate breakdown. “ _That’s_ why that guy at the concert looked familiar; I _knew_ I’d seen him somewhere.”

Michael frowned as he, too, thought about that night. “Are you sure it’s a good thing to keep seeing him?”

Gob snorted. “‘Seeing’ him?” he asked. “I’m not _‘seeing’_ him; I’m _fucking_ him.” Well, technically, Derrick was fucking _him_ , but he didn’t feel the need to clarify that detail at the moment.

“I know, and that's what I meant."

Gob raised his eyebrows. “Just because _you’re_ not getting laid doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “It’s not that,” he said. “It’s…whenever you’re sleeping around with people, you…" Michael sighed, "You're not as happy as you were when you were with Dave or any of your other boyfriends.  _Definitely_ not as happy since you were with Seth...Don't you think that you should try actually _dating_ someone?"

All three of them were silent for a moment as Gob thought over what Michael said. 

"Nah, I'm good," Gob said cheerily before placing down his wine glass. Just to annoy them, he said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get plowed."

Lindsay, who had gotten way too used to comments like that over the last decade, just rolled her eyes. Michael, who would never get used to those comments, groaned, "You know you don't have to tell us every detail of your sex life."

"Michael, you've _really_ got to work on that homophobia," Gob said with fake seriousness as he walked out of the kitchen, Michael grumbling under his breath.

 _God_ he loved pulling that card.

* * *

"Hey, Anna," Gob answered his phone. "I'm at work and trying to practice, so don't take too long."

"When are you  _not_ practicing during work hours?" Anna asked.

"...Touché," Gob said as he turned a bit on his piano bench. "What's going on?"

"I just wanted to check in with you about this...publicist thing?" Anna said. "I don't know what happened. First I got a call from some Jessie telling me about plans she had for you and the whole family, but by the time I got to call back, she was swearing up and down that she'd never work for the Bluths again."

Gob laughed, "Oh, yeah, my brother Michael tried to hire some publicist because he was too scared to ask her out, and then he was too scared to actually  _date_ her, so she got all pissed off and wrote an article about how my family's the worst." 

"Do I have more damage control to do for you?"

"Nah. She really didn't have anything to say about me," Gob said with a shrug. "She just brought up the boat fight again. Thankfully she didn't get wind of the strippers at the symphony—"

"Strippers?" Anna asked. "Never mind, never mind, I don't want to know." She cleared her throat before saying, "I'm glad you dodged that bullet at least, but we could use some positive press...I'll try to work out some press for your outreach performances if you send me the dates."

"Sure thing," Gob said. After a moment he laughed again and shook his head to himself. "Michael's such a dumbass; she was crazy, but he still could've used some action. He's only slept with four women, you know."

Anna sighed. "Actually, I  _did_ know that, since you've told me that many times." Over the years, the two of them had evolved past agent/client to actual friends, meaning she had heard a lot of rants about Gob's family.

" _I've_ slept with more women than him, and I haven't even slept with a woman since high school!" Gob said. "Oh, and apparently she was trying to promote him as the face of the family because he's intelligent and attractive and straight or something. And it's like...come on! I'm two of those three things, that's, like... _half_ of them."

"...Gob, honey, I think you're  _one_ of those things at best," Anna deadpanned. Gob grumbled and she laughed. "Listen, let me know if any other controversies happen, okay? Even if it's just your family's publicity; it could affect you, too."

"Okay," Gob said. "And the strippers are just some friends I made at one of the gay clubs. I mean, one of them was someone I've fucked around with a few times now—he  _really_ knows how to work those hips—"

"You know you don't have to tell me every detail of your sex life," Anna said dryly.

"Have I told you lately how much you sound like Michael?" Gob sighed. 

Gob heard her laugh over the phone; he made that comparison during every conversation they had. "Not lately, no."

* * *

It turned out that the backstage area of the Newport Orchestra building was full of a lot of twists and turns. Michael discovered this when he got tired of waiting outside for his brother so they could go to lunch. He figured it would be easier to find him seeing as he wasn’t answering his phone, but he managed to get himself completely lost. He was about to give up when he finally found someone.

“Hey. Do you happen to know where I can find Gob?”

The man looked confused. “Gob?”

“Gob Bluth?” Michael said to see if that would help. Maybe there was more than one Gob there?

After a few more blinks, the man’s face suddenly lit up with recognition. “You mean _George_ Bluth?”

Michael cringed a little. “Oh, god, right, the professional name.” Michael shook his head. “Sorry, everyone in our family and all his friends call him Gob, it’s… _weird_ that he’s George here.” He offered his hand, “I’m Michael Bluth, his brother.”

“I thought you looked familiar. I’m Tony Wonder,” the man said, shaking his hand back. So Gob really  _was_ meeting up with his brother for lunches.

“Oh, right, you’re the other artist,” Michael said. Gob had mentioned him a few times, normally just to complain about one thing or another. “So, do you know where he is? We’re supposed to meet for lunch.”

“I think he’s still in his office; I can show you where that is.”

Not wanting to just walk in silence, Michael said, “So, you play the violin, right?”

“Yeah, that’s my main instrument, but I also play guitar.”

“Oh, really? Me, too.” Michael paused for a moment before saying, “…Not very well, though.”

“So, music doesn’t really run in your family?”

“At least not in our generation,” Michael replied. “I guess our sister was _sort of_ in a band, but it’s really just Gob. He’s actually the one who taught me guitar.”

“He plays?”

“Sort of?” Michael shrugged. “He can kind of pick up little bits of anything if given a chance—it's kind of annoying, really. He’s probably better at guitar than me, honestly, but I don’t really practice or anything. There was some time on bass, recorder in elementary school, and his old boy— _roommate_ played cello and I know he learned some from him.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. That slip definitely confirmed his suspicions about Gob’s sexuality and also confirmed that he was out to his family, but that wasn't quite as interesting as the rest of it. “So, he’s one of those types, huh? Interesting…”

“Yes,” Michael said, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was agreeing to, “He just started on piano and stuck with that the most. Obviously.”

Tony nodded and made a noise to show that he was paying attention. He was still trying to process what this could all mean for him and how to get Gob to cooperate. He knew Gob and his brother met up for lunch a lot, so maybe Michael had some answers.

“I’m trying to put together some ideas for themes and composers we can do for our joint recitals, but we, uh, haven’t found much time to talk through any ideas. You wouldn’t happen to know his favorite composers—”

“Liszt,” Michael answered right away.

“That explains the encore."

“Yeah. He always was playing his stuff for recitals whenever he had a chance and he’d go on about how he was the rock star of his time—”

“Well, he _was_ —”

“Actually, he _still_ goes on about it. He’s such a nerd about him; he even went as Liszt to a costume party his PMA brothers threw…I think there are pictures somewhere.”

“...Okay, I would _love_ to see that,” Tony grinned. “Any other composers?”

“Uh…Bach was his favorite until he started learning Liszt, I think,” Michael said. “I know he’s not a big fan of Mozart…he likes Beethoven—oh  _god_ , one summer, he had a broken wrist and I thought he could start reading up on the composers he liked, and he went crazy over this one guy and wouldn’t shut up about him…he was German and died from syphilis?”

“…That really doesn’t narrow it down,” Tony said, but, after a beat, he realized, “Oh, probably Schumann.”

“ _That’s_ it. How did you guess?”

“Schumann ruined his hand and couldn’t play his own pieces; I’m sure if Geo— _Gob_ —had a broken wrist, he’d feel that same devastation,” Tony said simply. Michael gave him a curious look before they finally made it to Gob’s office door. The room wasn’t completely soundproof, so they both could hear the sound of Gob practicing.

"We should probably wait until he reaches a stopping point," Tony said.

Michael shook his head. "If you don't stop him, he never will. Trust me; he's missed meals before because he's gotten too wrapped up."

Before Tony could think on it at all, Michael opened the office door and then walked right up to his brother to lightly push his shoulder. Gob, on instinct, swatted at his brother with that same hand without looking up from his music while the other kept playing. Tony held back a laugh; even if Michael hadn’t introduced himself as Gob’s brother, Tony would’ve been able to tell their relationship from that moment alone. It reminded him of his own siblings and it was pretty cute.

Gob wrapped up where he was before turning to look at his brother. “Yeah?”

“It’s almost one. You said you’d meet me outside at 12:30.”

Gob looked down at his watch and then at his clock. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Mikey; I turned off my phone so I wouldn’t get interrupted.”

“Have your phone on next time, okay?”

Gob rolled his eyes. “Okay, _mom_.”

“I should get going,” Tony said from the door. Both brothers turned to him and he gave a small wave. “Nice to meet you, Michael. And see you later,  _Gob_.” He grinned a little before leaving and Gob looked over at Michael, his eyes narrowing a little.

“You called me Gob in front of him?”

“I didn’t think it was some big secret,” Michael said, very confused as to why Gob looked mad about that.

“It’s _not_ , it’s just not who I’m supposed to be here.” Michael still looked confused and Gob sighed. “I don’t want to be some…some _geo-bead_ to them.”

“Geo-bead?” Michael asked. “Is that some composer or something?”

“What? No! What kind of name is geo-bead?” Gob snorted. “It’s that word dad used for screw-ups? He said I’d understand it later, I don’t know, he used it a lot with me when he wasn’t calling me a dramatic, artistic, delicate fairy.” Gob shook his head and continued, “But, I mean, _George_ is a name people respect; Gob isn’t. Even when I spell my name out, people somehow get _gawb_ out of G-O-B— _oh_ …” He froze as he finally connected what _geo-bead_ really meant.

“…Yeah…” Michael said awkwardly, not really sure what he could say or do.

“…I _hate_ dad,” Gob said bitterly. “See? Even _he_ uses my name against me, and _he’s_ why everyone calls me that in the first place. I don’t like using _his_ name, either, but…whatever. It’s my stage name now, anyways; it’s too late to change that. And not everyone can be born into an awesome name like _Tony Wonder_.”

Michael laughed, assuming his brother was joking at first. Then Gob looked at him with a confused look on his face and Michael realized his brother truly thought that Tony Wonder was really born with that name. “…Let’s just go get some food, okay?” Michael said. He was already running late; he didn’t have the time to teach his brother how names worked.

When they got to the restaurant, Michael, in an effort to make conversation, said, “That Tony guy seems nice."

Gob snorted. “He’s alright. The beard’s dumb, though. Like, we get it, your last name begins with a _W_. Why do you need to point that out?”

Michael gave his brother a look. “…Gob, you’re literally wearing a belt with a _G_ on it. And you have at least 20 more.”

“Yeah, but that’s not, like, _permanent_.”

“Neither is a beard,” Michael pointed out.

“…Shut up,  _Bike_ ," Gob said, resorting to the dumb nickname Michael always rolled his eyes at. At least it always made him shut up.

* * *

“Great. I think we should wrap it up here,” Gob said, trying his hardest not to sound too pained as he finished up his nephew’s lesson. Yet again, Maeby’s lesson had been great, but George Michael was still struggling at…well, everything. Gob had even sent Maeby to her room after hers so George Michael wouldn't have an audience, but it didn't seem to help.

Gob poured himself some whiskey—thank god someone had bought some more—and then sat back down on the plush arm chair. He loved that thing so much he kept considering stealing it. Could he fit that in his car? He shouldn't have returned the U-Haul so quickly...

“…I’m really not good at this, am I?” George Michael asked suddenly.

Gob honestly replied, “No, you aren’t.” George Michael looked slightly disappointed and Gob tried to reassure him, “Hey, not everyone can be. Your dad was awful, too.” His nephew still looked depressed and Gob sighed. “Do you really even want to be doing this? You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself that much.”

“What? No, I like…I like music. And it’s impressive on, like, a résumé and stuff, right?”

“And with girls,” Gob said with a nod. At George Michael’s confused look, Gob said, “Hey, I slept with a _lot_ of girls before I realized I was gay. I’ve slept with more than your dad has—four is such a pathetic number—I get that they like this stuff. How do you think I lost my virginity?”

“…I can’t say I’ve really thought about it?” George Michael replied awkwardly.

That was fair; Gob tried not to think about it himself. “But, hey, there are other ways to get girls. I didn’t have a piano with me every time I hooked up with one,” Gob said.

“Yeah, but it’s not really—it’s not really a _girl_ thing—”

“Is it a _Guy_ thing?” Gob asked, arching his eyebrows.

“What? No—I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just not—”

“Okay, okay,” Gob said, laughing a little at how worked up George Michael was getting. “Relax."

"It's hard to do that on command," George Michael said tightly, which was basically what he ended up saying in every lesson at some point.

Gob sighed again and ran a hand over his forehead as he thought about what to say. After a few moments, he dropped his hand and looked at his nephew. "Look, some people...just don't have it. And you can keep practicing and maybe you'll get better. But...do you really want to put in all that work? I mean, who are you trying to impress? Your dad definitely won't care; he took lessons for years and can't even play 'Heart and Souls'. It's not like he'll be mad if you quit."

George Michael opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by Maeby calling out, "Can I come down now or are you still giving him a lesson?" George Michael panicked and something clicked in Gob's head.

"Give us a few more minutes, Maebs!" Gob called back up. She closed the door to her room and Gob turned to George Michael with a grin on his face. “You want to impress her, don’t you?” 

“What? N-no,” George Michael stuttered, forcing out a nervous laugh, but Gob just kept smiling.

“Hey, George Michael, come on; you can talk to me about this,” Gob said. “I know what you’re feeling right now.”

George Michael raised his eyebrows. “I…I don’t think you do.” First of all, his uncle wasn’t straight, no matter how many girls he slept with. Second of all, he was pretty sure his uncle didn’t have a cousin he was extremely attracted to and sort of maybe kind of in love with.

“Well, not _exactly_ , no,” Gob said, not understanding the situation at all. “But how you feel about Maeby…I felt that same sort of way about your dad.” George Michael’s eyes widened comically large and Gob admitted, “Sometimes I _still_ feel that way, honestly.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“Hey, you can’t judge me,” Gob said with a slight frown. “Anyways, it’s embarrassing, I know. He was an even _bigger_ geek back then if you can even imagine that, but..." Gob trailed off and sighed. "I'm older than him, too, so you'd think he'd actually feel  _that_ way about  _me_ —well, maybe he did and maybe that's why he kept on playing piano as long as he did." Gob had never thought about that before. Hm. "And with how he talks, I think your Uncle Tobias feels that way about me. But I actually got it eventually from Michael, but I don't think Tobias is ever gonna get it from me or anyone else in this family." He sunk down further into the plush chair and let out a small noise of contentment, unaware of his nephew's very uncomfortable look.

"But I guess I wanted the same thing from him that I always wanted from dad," Gob admitted, making George Michael's eyes somehow grow even larger. Gob chuckled and admitted, "Hell, I wanted it from mom, too, but I've kinda gotten it from her now."

Okay, George Michael realized that there definitely had to be some miscommunication going on here. "Wh-what do you mean you got it from _her_?"

Gob's eyebrows furrowed together. Had George Michael completely lost track of the conversation already? "Their approval," Gob said. "I wanted their attention and I wanted to impress them; isn't that what you want from Maeby? I know it's kind of embarrassing to want that from your family, especially when they're younger than you, like with me and Michael, but it's natural."

"I..." Okay, technically that was all true, but it definitely wasn't for the same reason Gob had wanted to impress his family members. George Michael breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. "Yeah. I mean, yeah, that's all I want from her. Yeah. Just to impress her, nothing weird."

"Exactly," Gob said, not noticing how awkward and unconvincing that lie was; the comfy chair was really distracting him from everything else. "Look, if you really want to impress her, you might want to try other things, things you're naturally good at. But if want to keep taking lessons, that's cool; just make sure your dad has enough whiskey for afterwards." After a beat he added, "No offense."

Before George Michael could even be offended, they heard Tobias say from the balcony, "Gob! I've been meaning to talk to you about a musical I'm auditioning for—"

"Gotta go," Gob said quickly to George Michael before chugging all of his whiskey and slipping out of the model home before Tobias could try to rope him into trying to accompany him for some audition.

He'd have to find a way to steal the chair later.

* * *

Once the first program of the year ended, it was time to  _really_ start preparing for the next one. The next one happened to feature Tony's first concerto of the season, which meant Gob had to see him more often. Tim had called for some rehearsals between him and Tony one-on-one, but he also wanted to run it a few times with Gob providing accompaniment on the piano to help work out timings without calling in the whole orchestra.

That meant Gob was finally going to hear Tony play. Of course, he had watched him in rehearsals and he had seen him tune the orchestra and all of that, but he hadn’t had a chance to hear him besides that. So, naturally, he was intrigued to find out what he actually sounded like—and to see what his UCLA training actually taught him.

"Is the piano all tuned up?" Tony asked as he unpacked his violin.

"I did it myself, so, yeah, it is," Gob said, mildly insulted that Tony would think otherwise.

"Cool," Tony said, "Can I get an A?" Just to show off, Gob hummed the note before giving him concert A, but Tony was too involved with quickly tuning up his strings that he didn't really pay Gob any notice. 

As they waited for Tim, Gob made sure he had all his music in order and stretched his fingers a bit. "Sibelius, huh? He was a violinist, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," Tony said as he looked through his own music. "It's a shame he only did one violin concerto. I guess he was too busy single handedly creating the Finnish national sound."

"Yeah," Gob said. That part of history was always fuzzy to him. "It's a cool piece. Same with  _Peter Gynt_ , which I'm definitely excited to hear live."

"You're mostly looking forward to the  _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ part, aren't you, Gob?" Tony teased. 

While that was true, Gob wasn't too fond of hearing Tony using his name while teasing him. He was about to tell him just that when Tim walked in and closed the door behind him. "Let's get started, shall we?" Gob rolled back his shoulders and, on Tim's cue, [began the piece](https://youtu.be/5gwjkFoBX4Y). 

Gob kept looking between his music and Tim to make sure he was keeping in time, but he kept his ear open to Tony's part as the piece went on. It wasn't until they got to the [large, long cadenza section](https://youtu.be/5gwjkFoBX4Y?t=125) that Gob got a break and actually got to watch Tony at work. His face was so concentrated and serious, but not in an off-putting way like a lot of performers looked when they concentrated. Gob watched his long fingers move easily along the strings, how they moved so gracefully, even during the fast as hell moments. And even during those fast passages, he sound so... _good_.

Gob had never been a huge fan of the violin; he had heard so many people make squeaky sounds on it he had kind of assumed that was the only sound it could make in the higher register. But Tony seemed to have this control over his bowing or something, something that made even the ridiculously high notes in his part sound pleasant and... _warm_. Violins were never described as  _warm_. That was for viola and cello, not _violin_ ; how the hell was he doing  _that_? 

Gob was so distracted he almost didn't come back in on time.

They kept running through parts of the first movement throughout the rest of the practice session. Surprisingly enough, Gob actually found himself looking forward to just listening and watching when Tim had Tony run certain parts by himself. That never happened; one part of why he wasn't too fond of working in groups was having to stop and run parts he wasn't involved in. But something about Tony's playing, his sound, it was... _captivating_.

Maybe he just had a really nice violin? It looked like it was hand-made, but Gob didn't know much about violins.

Eventually they ended the rehearsal and Tim left to do something or another, Gob really wasn't paying attention to what he was saying since he was still in a daze after that whole rehearsal. He blinked a few times as Tony started to talk to him as he took off his chin-rest. "Thanks for playing for that, man."

"...Y-yeah, no problem," Gob said. "I mean, I got paid, right?" He chuckled for a moment before awkwardly clearing his throat. "...That was...that was really good. You sound... _amazing_ on that." 

Tony looked at him curiously for a moment, as if studying him, and Gob wasn't sure how to respond to that look. Thankfully, Tony dropped it and smiled genuinely at him. "Thanks. It's a great piece, right?"

"Definitely," Gob said as Tony put his violin in his case. Gob looked at the sheet music for a moment longer before closing his accompaniment binder and opening up his own music to work on for a bit. He was flipping through pages when Tony spoke again.

“Oliver?”

Gob lifted his head up. “What?”

“Your middle name,” Tony said as he loosened his bow strings. “I’m guessing it begins with an _O_ and that’s why your family calls you Gob. You know, G-O-B.” Gob still looked confused. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” Gob said, shaking his head. “I mean, the middle name is wrong, but, yeah, that’s why they call me Gob.” He couldn’t help but laugh for a moment. “No one’s ever gotten that outside of my family; everyone always talks about Gob from the Bible or something. And I’ve worked at a _lot_ of churches and never found any Gobs in the Bible.”

“I think that one’s spelled with a J,” Tony said.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Tony shrugged in response. “I don’t know; we had to learn about him in temple at some point, but I don’t remember much about him.”

“You’re Jewish?” Gob asked.

“Technically, but I don’t really practice it anymore.”

“You have to _practice_? Are you _that_ bad at it?”

“You practice piano, right? Doesn’t make you bad at it.”

Oh. That was true. “Good point,” Gob said.

They both were silent for a few moments until Tony finally asked a question he’d been thinking about for a while. “So, why did you choose to go by ‘George’ if everyone calls you ‘Gob’? Gob seems like a nice stage name.”

“My first piano teacher always put me down as George on her recital programs,” Gob explained. “She said it was more professional.” Miss Griffin was really the only adult he ever listened to when he was a child, probably because she was the only adult who ever seemed to actually like him, so if she wanted him to go by George, he would go by George. “I don’t like that name, really, and it took me a long time to announce it without making a face, but…” Gob shrugged. “Not all of us get born into cool stage names like you.”

“You know my name’s not actually Tony Wonder, right?” Tony joked; he was sure Gob was teasing him.

“… _Obviously_ ,” Gob lied.

"I mean, Tony's already short for something else, but my family only used my full first name when I was getting yelled at, so I don’t really like being called it.”

“Everyone always called me Gob no matter what I did, and most of the time I was getting yelled at,” Gob said. “No one ever called me George.”

Tony nodded. “Maybe that’s part of why you started going by that.”

“…Maybe.” Gob shrugged. He wasn’t sure if that was accurate or not, but it kind of made sense.

After another small silence, Tony closed his case and explained, “So, I had an idea for one of our joint recitals.” Gob nodded and Tony moved to the crook of the piano. With great excitement, Tony put his hands up and moved them as if he was reading a sign and he announced, “ _Paganini in Concert_.” His hands remained animated as he explained, “There’s some arrangements of his work for piano and violin, and obviously I have a lot I can bring from his rep, and then I thought you’d want to do Liszt’s études—maybe another large work if I bring out all the caprices. What do you think?”

Gob looked at Tony thoughtfully for a few moments. Just as Tony thought he had made a misstep, Gob slowly started to smile until his whole face lit up. “Yeah, okay, I am _absolutely_ all for that.”

Tony grinned. “Really? Awesome.” He looked at the clock on Gob’s desk and then back to Gob. “I need to get to rehearsal, but we can discuss this some more tomorrow, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Gob agreed, still smiling widely. Tony nodded at him, grabbed his violin, and started to leave. As he walked towards the door, Gob finally said, “It’s Oscar, by the way.” When Tony turned back, Gob said, "My middle name. It’s Oscar.”

“Man, I should’ve guessed that,” Tony said with a shake of his head.

“Yeah…and if you want to call me that, you can.”

“Oscar?” Tony joked. Gob laughed along with Tony despite himself. “But, yeah, I’d like to call you Gob. I think it’s fitting.” Gob tensed a little as he thought of _geo-bead_ , before Tony explained, “It’s…intriguing. _Different_. Kinda fun.” Tony took a step back through the door and, right before he left, he said, “You know, like you.”

* * *

At their next lunch together, Gob told Michael all about the concert idea. “Who’s Paganini? I’ve never heard you mention him,” Michael said as he closed his menu.

“Paganini basically did for violin what Liszt did for piano—very flashy, new techniques. Actually,” Gob laughed a little, “Paganini was the guy who inspired Liszt to become _Liszt_. Like, Liszt was a child prodigy, but then he saw Paganini play and decided he wanted to be the Paganini of piano, so he practiced even more and developed a style similar to his, at least playing wise. Paganini was a composer, too, and like, _everyone_ used his themes to write other stuff—Rachmaninoff, Brahms, Schumann, _everyone_. But Liszt wrote the definitive version with his _Grandes études_ …at least in my opinion.”

“Got it,” Michael said. “Well, I’m glad you guys found something you both like—assuming he likes this stuff.”

“Of course he does; just look at him,” Gob said. At Michael’s confused look, Gob remembered, oh yeah, he wouldn’t understand that. “First of all, he wasn’t just a violinist, but he also played guitar. But like…basically, everyone thought he was so good that he must have sold his soul to the devil. It didn’t help that he was super pale and wore all black and had these longass, spider-like fingers. He originally wasn’t even allowed to be buried in a Catholic cemetery because everyone thought he was associated with the devil.

“So, yeah, rock-violinist-slash-guitarist, black-haired having, over-the-top showman Tony Wonder? He obviously _loves_ Paganini,” Gob said with a laugh.

“...And Paganini and Liszt were friends?”

Gob frowned. “No. I don’t think they ever even met; Paganini was old by the time he started to play outside of Italy and Liszt was super young when he first saw him, and Paganini died a few years later I think? But Paganini influenced him a lot, and, you know, Liszt went on to change all of the piano world.” Michael gave Gob a look that he obviously ignored in favor of ranting about Liszt yet again. “Like, he was one of the first people who first played everything from memory at his concerts, did you know that?”

“You’ve told me—”

“Paganini did that, too, that was probably part of his inspiration,” Gob said thoughtfully. “And Clara Schumann, too, but she hated Liszt by the end of her life even though he liked her—he actually dedicated the Paganini études to her. And he put the piano at the angle it’s used at today in recitals, so you sit in profile, which definitely looks better than any other angle. I don’t think he was _quite_ as dramatic as Paganini, though, because no one thought he was associated with the devil; he was basically just an 1800s version of The Beatles, like, Lisztomania was just like that. They thought he was a great piano player and hot. You know, like me.” Gob grinned and nodded his head cockily. 

“Yeah, yeah, we all know that you think Liszt was hot.” Before Gob could correct Michael on his purposeful misunderstanding of his rant, Michael said, “So they were both big influences on their instruments and the musical world at large, so you and Tony are both fans of the other. That makes sense.” He teased, “It’s kind of funny that you’ve ended up performing with the Paganini to your Liszt, huh? Maybe he’ll go on and inspire your performance practices.”

Gob thought about the concerto they had worked on, how Tony’s hand moved so smoothly over his violin, how he seemed to be connected to both him and Tim at once, how he had this great control that so many violin players seemed to lack so his strings didn’t squeak painfully in his ears…

“Sure,” Gob scoffed as the waiter finally came over. His stomach felt really weird; he had to be really hungry or something.

* * *

“Nice place.”

Gob looked over at the guy he had brought home, slightly amused. Were they really about to make small talk before they hooked up? “Thanks.”

“Oh, a piano—do you play?”

Gob straight up laughed at that, probably a bit more than what was appropriate given the situation. “A little,” he joked. Changing tracks, Gob jerked his head towards his bedroom. “If you like my house, you should see the bedroom.” As if suddenly remembering why he was there, the man grinned and eagerly follow Gob to his bedroom, the two of them picking up where they had left off at the club.

A few minutes after they both finished, the guy slipped into his own clothes and Gob slipped into his robe. Gob walked him out so he could lock the door behind him. Then he went back to his own bed and got under the covers and pulled a pillow to his chest with a sigh. Part of him had wanted to ask him to stay; he kind of liked cuddling and it would be nice to have someone there in the morning, and maybe they could’ve squeezed a round two after breakfast. They could’ve talked some more. Gob could’ve show him what he meant when he said he played the piano “a little”.

Gob sighed louder and closed his eyes. He needed to stop letting Michael mess with his thoughts. He had enjoyed himself, and that was all that mattered, relationship or not.

Thankfully, he seemed tired enough that his brain actually shut up and let him sleep. But as he started to drift off to sleep, "Uptown Girl" started to play in his head.

 _God._ He _knew_ that Tony was going to get that stuck in his head for the rest of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry this chapter took so long and that it got so much longer than planned. I kept debating where I wanted to take it; I originally had all these ideas that weren't gelling well together. Finally I realized that I wanted this to parallel the fourth chapter of the original fic, which meant some self-discovery and partying, and then I added some stuff that would help set up plots for other chapters. The George Michael plot just needed to be there for laughs and for some uncle and nephew bonding. Don't worry; there will be uncle and niece bonding again soon! I try not to make promises on updates, but I do think this one will be a bit sooner since I have clearer ideas of where I want the fic to go from here, especially with the Paganini introduced. 
> 
> Also, the song's name actually translates to "Rondo in the Hungarian style, almost a caprice", but it's best known for the "Rage Over a Lost Penny" which made me think of Gob. Add in the fact that it's a flashy little piece and you've got yourself a perfect piece for piano!Gob. I thought it worked well for this chapter since there's all these random moments of anger that he just bounces back from ~~and the other songs I thought about were too angsty.~~
> 
> As always the playlist can be found [here](https://8tracks.com/valenciaperez/etude-no-3-in-g-sharp-minor-s-141). I'm sorry again for the delay, but I hope you guys liked it!


	5. Suite for Piano ("Star-Crossed"): I. Innamorato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "[Innamorato](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co-Men0Jz-A)" from Suite for Piano ("Star-Crossed")  
> by Billy Joel

**Suite for Piano ("Star-Crossed"): I. "Innamorato (In Love)"**

Gob’s first solo with the orchestra as part of his residency was around the end of November. Gershwin’s [Rhapsody in Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cH2PH0auTUU) was always a crowd pleaser, with its jazz/blues influence and sweeping melodies. It was a standard for a reason, and it definitely fit the New York City theme they seemed to build up for the night.

It figured that Gob would have to leave New York City before he finally performed the piece in public. Of course, he had been working on it on and off for years, but, well, that was a different story.

His family came to the first performance, partly to get seen in public as being a loving, supporting family and all of that, but they still seemed to actually enjoy it. The second and final performance of that program, which happened the next day, was the bigger deal, though. That performance was when one of Gob’s favorite people was finally coming. One of the most, if not _the_ most influential person in his life, and definitely the most influential one outside of his family. It had taken a while for them to finally meet up after all these years, but finally, _finally_ they were going to be reunited, and Gob eagerly waited for the reunion right outside the reception area.

“Miss Griffin!” Gob eagerly greeted her as soon as he spotted her. After a moment he corrected himself with a laugh, “I mean, Mrs. Nelson. Right.”

“Oh, come on, Gob,” she said with a slight laugh in response. “I haven’t been your piano teacher for years now; I think you can call me Nancy.” With that she pulled him into a hug that he eagerly reciprocated, squeezing her tightly in the process.

“I’m so glad you came,” he told her when he finally let go of her.

“I’m so glad you got me those tickets! And I’m still so sad I missed your first concert; I’m sure you sounded great on that Tchaikovsky,” she said with a slight frown and a shake of her head. “I can’t believe I got the flu in _August_.”

“Well, the Gershwin is cooler,” Gob said.

“And that Chopin makes for a great encore.”

“Who doesn’t love the [Wrong Note étude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDBORZZmhbA)?” Gob grinned. “They said I shouldn’t do Liszt again, so I figured Chopin was a close second.”

“I’m glad to see that Liszt is still your favorite,” she teased lightly.

“It’s your fault for introducing him to me,” Gob pointed out. After all, she was the one who taught him piano from the age of four to eighteen, and she was the first one who subsequently taught him about composers. She taught him more than pretty much anyone else he knew; Miss Griffin— _Nancy_ , he needed to remember that—was basically his maternal figure growing up. He did everything she asked, from going by George in professional settings to dutifully practicing hours upon hours over their time together.

Well, the practicing was also just because he liked it a lot, but, you know, she still wanted him to do it.

“Do you want a drink?” Gob asked. “I get them for free.”

Once Gob had gotten them each a glass of wine, they stood at a table and talked. Occasionally their conversation would be interrupted by some concert goers coming over to give Gob a compliment. And normally some of the guys who had come over would have been treated to the full extent of Gob’s charm, but, at the moment, talking to Nancy was more important than getting laid, which was admittedly strange for him.

The two of them made it through a couple glasses of wine each as they spent the night talking. They mainly talked about music, but a few more personal things came up. Nancy told Gob about her husband and son (Gob remembered her being pregnant, and he _definitely_ remembered not having lessons for a few weeks after she gave birth, because it had totally killed him at the time). Gob told her a bit about his niece and nephew, and he mentioned his siblings’ relationships, since she _had_ taught them at one point, and she still saw them around when she came over for lessons.

“But what about you?” Nancy asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Oh, no,” Gob said with a slight laugh. At Nancy's shock, Gob simply shrugged. Michael had definitely gotten into his head about the whole dating thing, but the idea of actually being in one at the moment seemed impossible.

Nancy’s face lit up with a smile. “I think I know someone who’d be _perfect_ for you. I have a friend around your age that teaches music and I bet she’d just _love_ to meet you.”

"Uh..." This was a situation Gob had weirdly run into from time-to-time. Despite the fact that his dad had always assumed he was gay, a lot of other people didn’t seem to guess that. Normally he’d just say he was, unless it was someone he wasn’t comfortable coming out to, and the idea of coming out to a maternal figure…

“Thanks, but…I don’t think she’d really be my type,” Gob finally answered. “I don’t really date musicians anymore.” And that was technically true, but Gob felt like he owed her the truth after all those years she helped him.

He took a deep breath and added, “And _women_ don’t tend to be my type, either. Well, not since my last attempt back in high school.”

Gob avoided looking at her until she spoke again a few moments later. “Well, I can definitely keep an eye out for someone more your type,” she said with a soft smile. Gob smiled back nervously and finished off his glass of wine.

Wanting to get Gob back at ease, she turned back to the subject of music. “How long have you been working on that Gershwin?”

Gob was very thankful for the subject change. “I never performed it until now, and I really started studying it a few months ago, but I guess I first started looking at it… my junior year of college?” Gob raised his eyebrows. Was that right? “Wow. That’s a while. I just never had the chance to perform it anywhere else.”

“Sometimes we have to wait for the right opportunity,” Nancy said wisely.

“Yeah,” Gob agreed. He shook his head and laughed under his breath. God, he hadn’t thought about that time in his life for quite a while.

* * *

_You’re not going to have sex with any of your brothers, Gob._

_Gob had been telling him that since he joined the music fraternity Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia. It was complicated enough hooking up with people in the music school with how often he had to see them; he couldn’t add in the drama of them being a part of the organization he had meetings for once a week. There had to be a line. There_ had _to be._

 _…But Dave was so_ hot _._

_Truly, Gob didn’t know if Dave was gay. He sorta had a feeling, but it could have just been wishful thinking on his part. And while his brothers—if not all of the music school—knew that Gob was gay, not everyone was as open about it, so it wasn’t like he could just ask him._

_But they had been flirting, right? Gob was flirting, at least. Then again, Gob seemed to always flirt with people, often without realizing he was. He couldn’t help that he was charming, could he?_

_And they had a_ ton _in common, since they both came from families who ran big companies; Dave’s family business just happened to be some fancy law firm. Dave’s father also seemed like an asshole. Despite that, Dave was funny and had this laugh and he was so smart and seriously, that fucking body…All Gob wanted was at least one night exploring that body for himself._

_It wasn’t until his junior year, Dave’s senior year, that he finally found a way to get them alone._

_See, Gob’s teacher assigned him Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, a piece of classical and jazz mixed together. He thought it would be a good exercise for Gob, since Gob had a love of pop and rock music as well. And Dave had been in jazz band in the past…_

_So, when Gob brought it up during a conversation, Dave said he’d be willing to help since he knew the piece fairly well, and Gob said he totally needed that help—but, of course, he really didn’t because, come on, he was Gob Bluth. And, of course, there wasn’t much that Dave could do but offer a few comments, and, at one point, he rubbed Gob’s shoulders to try to relax him a bit, which had to be a signal, right?_

_Gob said he owed him a drink. One drink turned into a few more, and then Dave insisted he drive Gob home, and it was definitely late enough that Gob knew Michael would be asleep once they got there. You know, if anything happened._

_They both sat there in silence for a few more moments until Dave finally leaned over and kissed Gob. It was brief and a bit gentler than Gob expected or was even used to, but it definitely made it clear that they were on the same page._

_“Took you long enough,” Gob teased once he pulled away. Without any more thought, Gob leaned back over and kissed him harder, emboldened by Dave making the first move and the liquor in his system._

_Fuck it; he was totally gonna have sex with his brother._

* * *

Gob was the life of the party; that was something everyone knew. Well, all of his closest friends did, at least. But he was the life of _interesting_ parties, not necessarily company parties. At Bluth Company parties, he normally just had to play music and entertain the whole time, which was fine. That was when he was in his element. But the orchestra threw some lame little Christmas party the day after their final performance of their Christmas concert, and, despite the fact that Gob knew a lot of them _had_ to be great partiers, it was basically like having another office Christmas party—i.e. it was _totally lame_. And there wasn’t even rum in the punch.

But at least he got to talk a little with Tony.

Okay, so the thing with Tony was that, okay, _maybe_ Gob had misjudged him. He was actually a pretty neat guy, even if the beard was still weird to him. But once that Paganini idea came to light and once Gob watched him perform on their Scandinavian themed concert, Gob started to come around to him. He was definitely good at what he did—Gob might have been more captivated during his concerto than he had been throughout the whole of [In the Hall of the Mountain King](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLp_Hh6DKWc) segment which seemed ridiculously impossible—and he was actually pretty fun. They had come up with some great ideas for their combined recitals and, yeah, fine, Tony was a friend.

Tony also seemed to have the same feeling towards the party as Gob did. “I hate these things,” Tony muttered at one point.

“Is it a Jewish thing?” Gob asked.

“No,” Tony said with a laugh. “I grew up celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas, so it’s not a big deal. But I hate calling these things a ‘party’. Sitting around and talking while drinking fruit punch? What are we, high schoolers at prom?”

“You mean you actually stayed sober at high school dances? That was your first mistake.” 

“Oh, I rarely even went to dances,” Tony said.

“Really?”

Tony laughed quietly before admitting, “I was kinda the punk-slash-goth kid who thought he was too cool for that. Plus, people weren’t really interested in the little guy who played first chair violin all four years of high school. Did you not have that same experience?”

“Fuck, no,” Gob said. “I was the kid spiking the punch since, like, freshman year; and I provided money for alcohol at, like, every party _ever_.”

“You were a popular kid?”

“I was Prom King and class president, and that was _definitely_ just a popularity contest. Well, and my dad had some dirty tricks that helped me win. But, yeah,” Gob shrugged. “I kinda kept piano on the down low most of the time, except when it helped me pick up girls.”

Tony raised his eyebrows; maybe Gob was bi? And, okay, Tony knew he could just get his answer if he asked, and since they were friends, it was probably alright to ask. But something seemed wrong about just straight up asking him and...well, Tony didn't want to offend him. It really  _wasn't_ his business, even if they were friends; he'd wait for Gob to tell him if he was or wasn't.

But, in the mean time, he still got a kick out of some of the stuff Gob said that could be a bit incriminating. 

“Then I blew my cover by getting out of gym to do a music independent study my senior year. And I played in the pit of the musical and played one of the parts because they wanted someone who could play piano.”

Okay, that was pretty gay.

“What musical?” Tony asked.

“ _Jesus Christ Superstar_. I was King Herod.”

Okay, _that_ was _really_ gay.

“Interesting,” Tony said. “I would’ve figured you’d be more of a Jesus guy.”

“I didn’t even audition; they just asked me if I’d play Herod since they couldn't find the right actor,” Gob said, smiling a bit smugly. “Though I would be hot on that cross, right? Hotter than _our_ Jesus.” Then Gob thought about Tommy, the really cute guy who played Jesus, but also dated Lindsay (gross). He smirked a little and added, “Well, maybe not.”

That was one of the gayest series of sentences Tony had heard in a long while, possibly ever. “Wow.”

“Yeah. I’ve always been the life of the party kinda dude,” Gob said, not realizing Tony was concentrating on other parts of that story. “Well, you know, cool parties. Not, like, office ones. All throughout high school and college and everything.”

“I always loved a good party. I may not have been popular, but I got into a lot of parties,” Tony said. “I guess I was considered kinda cool in college and grad school, though.”

Gob snorted. “I wasn’t aware cool people went to UCLA,” he said, only partially joking.

Tony rolled his eyes and retorted, “Well, I heard only rich snobby kids go to USC, so I guess that’s why you went there.” Tony smirked at Gob and walked away to get more punch.

Gob, of course, had to follow him. “Hey, USC has one of the _best_ music schools in the whole _world_ , which was why I turned down _Juilliard_ to attend—”

“Yeah, yeah, Gob, you’ve told me this story, like, ten times,” Tony said with a slight laugh. “And at least our mascot wasn’t named after a condom.”

“What, like being a Trojan is a _bad_ thing?” Gob said as they finally reached the punch table. “Are you against safe sex, Tony?”

“I guess you have a point there,” Tony chuckled. “Besides, I don’t really have school loyalties. I really only feel loyalty to teams from back home, like the Mets.”

“You mean like the opera and museums?”

Tony looked at Gob oddly. “…You don’t really follow sports, do you?” Gob shook his head and took the punch ladle from Tony. “I do love the museums and stuff, but I meant the baseball team.”

“I thought the New York baseball team was the Yankees.”

Tony gave Gob a glare that actually scared him. “We do _not_ support the Yankees. Only rich assholes do.” He smirked and added, “You know, just like the USC Trojans.” Gob grumbled and put down the punch ladle with a roll of his eyes. “Again, I’m kidding. But, yeah, that’s the only team I really have any loyalty to, though I don’t watch games too often. Are you sure you really lived in New York?”

"I never had a reason to pay attention to sports teams, did I?" Gob responded. They walked away from the punch table so other people could get in, and Gob continued, “I never liked watching sports in the first place. I didn’t mind playing them, but I tended to throw my whole body into them. After I broke my wrist, I stopped playing in the Bluth Company softball games, since I didn’t wanna risk breaking anything again,” Gob said. “…Plus, I had already had to have two crowns put in from those games.”

“You really weren’t kidding about throwing yourself into those games, huh?” Tony said.

“Bluths don’t lose. Unless you’re Michael running for president,” Gob said with a smirk. It was one of the very few victories he had over Michael.

Before Tony could comment, someone came through the door next to them and he had to step closer to Gob to let him pass. Tony looked up at Gob, but then noticed something hanging over Gob’s head. “Oh, look; mistletoe.”

Gob looked up and, sure enough, they were standing under some mistletoe. Very _close_ under the mistletoe. Much closer than Gob had ever intended, and his heart hammered in his chest as he realized how nice Tony's cologne smelled. Gob's eyes widened and he nearly _jumped_ away from Tony in a panic.

Tony gave him an odd look and Gob tried to joke, “Just…wouldn’t want you to have to kiss me. Now that you know the truth about my teeth and everything.” Tony continued to look at him strangely and Gob excused himself to get a Christmas cookie from the snack table.

* * *

_After his move to San Francisco, Gob had gone back to Newport Beach for Christmas, and the tension had been high, especially between him and his father. Not that anyone mentioned why the room was so tense when Judy Garland sang about making the Yuletide gay._

_So, Gob knew he couldn’t go home for Christmas the following year, even though he really wanted to. Seth, not wanting his boyfriend to be alone for the holiday, got him a ticket to fly back to Michigan with him for the holidays._

_And Gob was nervous. Gob hadn’t seen Seth’s parents since the summer Seth and Gob roomed together at camp. He had been scared of seeing them again since they had to know they had spent most of that summer hooking up now and they had to hate him, right? Gob was sure of it, so sure of it that Seth had to hold his hand the whole ride over to stop Gob from biting his fingernails off._

_But, weirdly enough, they didn’t seem to hate him. They actually seemed to like him, as did Rebecca, Seth’s little sister. Seth had warned them that Gob was a bit…different due to his family, and, since the Evans knew Gob was more or less unwelcome in his own home, they did their best to embrace him with open arms. They embarrassed Seth by showing Gob pictures and telling him stories, they let him practice on their piano, and they only lightly teased him for almost constantly wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. Hey, to a southern Californian like Gob, even San Francisco seemed too cold, let alone Michigan._

_There were some bumpy moments, of course, some of which were handled easily. Gob was used to more alcohol being available, but Seth made sure to limit his boyfriend’s liquor consumption anyways; his family wouldn’t understand that Gob could slam back five shots and not feel a thing. Seth’s mom also originally set up the guest room for Gob until Seth, fighting his very Midwestern upbringing, told her firmly that, no, they were going to share a room._

_But the harder stuff to get over was the difference between Christmas celebrations._

_Gob was weirdly fascinated and/or confused over all of the Evans traditions, even though they were all, well, traditional. He was weirdly fascinated with seeing a fireplace actually have a fire in it, unlike back home where it was mostly used for extra seating. Gob had never seen an advent calendar before, but he explained that it was probably because his family was less into chocolate and more into candy beans, and apparently, they had never even_ heard _of candy beans. When he explained what they were, they said those were called “jelly beans”._ _Gob was sure they were messing with him; why would they be called jelly beans when they were candy?_

_The biggest surprise came in the form of the tree. Gob said he liked whatever air freshener or candle they used, since it smelled like a real tree; the stuff his mom used was never that convincing. When they told him that it was a real tree, he swore loudly, startling Seth's parents and making Rebecca laugh, and stared at it with wide eyes as he reached back for Seth's hand._

_“How do you know there aren’t, like, squirrels in there?”_

_Seth eventually calmed him down and once Gob looked around it and poked the needles a bit, he declared that he liked it. Keeping a tree indoors?_ Wild _._

_To be fair, the Evans didn’t understand his traditions. Seth had warned him they wouldn’t and he told him he shouldn’t try to explain them, but then Seth’s mom asked and, hey, it would be rude to not answer, right? Seth watched painfully as his boyfriend launched into stories about Bluth Christmases._

_They didn’t really understand the concept of the Living Classics pageant, which Gob never liked past the string quartet, anyways. They were definitely concerned when he told them the story about how one time, his Uncle Oscar came and had weed cookies in his suitcase, but since he was only, like, eleven he didn’t know any better and he and his siblings ate them and Michael got super paranoid and Buster had to have his stomach pumped, but he and Lindsay were just laughing for all of Christmas Day. They were wholly disturbed when he mentioned one Christmas where their father, in order to teach them a lesson, had his friend dress up like Santa only to have his arm blown off._

_“And_ that’s _why you don’t stay up all night to try to see Santa,” Gob ended the story with a fond smile at the memory. When he saw their disturbed faces, he added, “Don’t worry, I know Santa’s not real; Michael told me that, like, years ago.”_

_Seth put a hand on Gob’s knee and gently told him, “I think that’s enough stories for now.”_

_After that, Seth was worried his family, or at least his parents, would be too weirded out by_ _Gob's..._ Gob-ness _to realize what a great boyfriend he was. But just when it seemed like they were never going to gel, something magical happened._

 _It_ snowed _._

_Gob had never experienced a white Christmas past watching the movie with his mom. Suddenly, all the cold he had dealt with was worth it, and any complaints he had about the super wholesome traditions or the lack of alcohol had disappeared, because Gob started to feel that Christmas spirit he had only seen before in TV shows and movies. And his spirit, like it always was when he was positive, was contagious and, at least in Seth's opinion, adorable._

_Seth and Rebecca took him sledding, something they hadn’t even done since they were little, and something Gob found weirdly fun. They taught him the proper way to make a snowman, another thing they hadn't done for years. And while Gob still thought it was too cold to be real, he thought Seth looked really adorable with a pink nose and he couldn’t resist lightly rubbing his nose against it._

_When they got back inside, Seth’s mom made them hot chocolate with whipped cream._ Homemade. _Gob had thought whipped cream could only come in those cans and that hot chocolate was really just a way to slip whiskey into a child's drink so they would sleep. You know, like his mom did with him._

_Even Seth looked horrified when Gob told them that story; that was a new one._

_Finally, on Christmas Eve, Seth’s mom and Rebecca made cookies, and Gob watched them curiously while Seth practiced in his room. Gob had watched their maid cook before, but it was different watching two family members do it, and he found the whole thing very, well, weird compared to what he had grown up in. He really thought things like making cookies and playing in the snow only happened in TV shows and movies, but the Evans were real and so nice to him and he had never had a better Christmastime._

_So, when Seth’s mom said he could decorate them with Rebecca, he was terrified he would mess them up, since that was what he always did, but she said there really wasn’t any way he could do that, since you just had to be icing and sprinkles on them however you wanted. Rebecca even insisted they never turned out pretty._

_Despite their claims, Gob was determined to get it right, and that was how Seth found him with an apron on, frosting (somehow) in his hair, and a determined look on his face as he held a canister of sprinkles._

_"You look_ adorable _, California."_

_"Shut up; I'm trying to concentrate."_

_Seth walked behind Gob and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder as he watched him work. “They look great, babe,” Seth told him honestly. He gave him a kiss on cheek, which made Gob turn to look at him, which in turn let Seth kiss him softly on the lips. It was the most amount of PDA Seth had felt comfortable doing around his family since they had gotten there. It made Gob smile so hard his face hurt._

_“Hey, there wasn’t any mistletoe,” Rebecca joked. “You know mom never hangs that up.”_

_“Well, next year we’ll just have to bring some ourselves," Seth replied._

_Somehow Gob smiled even wider at the idea of having another Christmas like this with Seth._

* * *

When Michael had asked if Gob wanted to play piano for the Bluth Company Christmas party, Gob said no. He was a professional now, he didn’t need to beg for his family’s company to pay him in dollar bills.

Well, it was part of why he said no. The other part was because his dad’s former assistant was really, _really_ revolting to him, and the further away he could be from here, the better.

And, no, it wasn’t because she was a girl. Between her frizzy hair, glasses, and over-eager flirting, Gob wouldn’t have been interested even if he _was_ straight. It was just made weirder by the fact that Gob was sure that, knowing who his dad was, she most likely had slept with his father. Like, multiple times. And she was trying to hook up with his _son_? Yeah, Gob did his best to avoid the office.

Thankfully Kitty went on some sick leave or something in the new year and Gob started to stop by more often. Really, it was mostly to use the free copier for his sheet music or to get lunch with Michael during the middle of the day; he liked to make sure Michael actually took a proper lunch break.

…But, okay, he might have started to go a bit more often when he realized the Office Assistant was really cute.

Gary really fit Gob’s type: short, dark hair, and _hot_. Like, seriously, Gob would _kill_ for that ass. Or that mouth, for that matter.

His looks were only enhanced by the fact that he actually knew some stuff about music. Apparently, his dad played in an amateur string quartet and his mom taught voice lessons and he had done some musical theater.

But it wasn’t like Gob thought anything was going to happen. Gary was straight. So, really, it was just a chance for him to get some eye candy and talk about music while he waited to get lunch with his brother. It was kind of interesting hearing the opinion of a non-professional who actually somewhat knew what he was talking about.

“So, do you have a favorite composer?” Gob asked one day.

“Hmm…I don’t know…my mom has taught a lot of German stuff I like to hear, all the standards of Lied: Schubert Schumann, Brahms, Wolf,” Gary said.

“Oh, yeah, they’re all great,” Gob said. “I love some Schumann, both Robert and Clara. And Wolf is interesting; I only know him from accompanying singers, since he’s really only known for songs.”

“So, who’s _your_ favorite composer?”

“Oh, it’s definitely Franz Liszt. You should look him up—L-I-S-Z-T. He wrote the _best_ piano music,” Gob replied automatically. “I normally play him for my encores; he’s kind of my signature.” Gary nodded and Gob continued, “As a pianist, I obviously love Chopin and Rachmaninoff, too. Scriabin is great…I don’t know, it’s hard to choose a second favorite after Liszt. I really try my best to find something I like about every piece I do, and I’m normally successful at that.”

“That’s a great outlook,” Gary said.

Gob shrugged in response. “What other kinds of music do you like?”

“Well, obviously some good musical theater, like Sondheim.” Gary grinned and admitted, “But my all-time favorite artist is Billy Joel.”

“No way!” Gob exclaimed. “I _love_ Billy Joel. He’s, like, one of my top five. Well, I’m a pianist, so, obviously. I'm actually working on these classical songs he wrote for a recital.”

“Really? That's amazing,” Gary said. “I always wanted to play piano because of him, but I never had the patience to learn it. Or the talent. I don’t think my fingers work the right way.”

“If you ever want to try again, I’m pretty good at fingering,” Gob said.

It took a moment for Gob to realize what he had said, or at least what it _sounded_ like he said. Oh, god, he hoped he hadn’t freaked out Gary. He was never going to be that gay guy who tried to hit on straight guys, he had sworn against doing that _ever_. Not that he had told Gary he was gay, but if Gary took that the wrong way—

“Sounds tempting,” Gary replied.

Gob paused and looked at him; was he seeing things, or was Gary smirking at that? Was he…was he _flirting_?

Before Gob could ponder that further, Michael came out of the meeting room and Gob had to say goodbye.

“So, you’re becoming friends with Gary?” Michael asked at the restaurant, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“I guess,” Gob said, trying to downplay the whole thing. “He’s a pretty cool dude. It’s not like we’re hanging out outside of the office or anything.” At Michael’s look, Gob rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m not chasing some straight guy, okay?"

Michael gave Gob a different, weirder look for a moment. “…But Gary's gay."

“Gary’s gay?”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “I thought you knew that? You know, gaydar or whatever?”

Normally, Gob would come up with some reason for why he hadn’t known or he'd bluff his way through by saying of _course_ he knew that. But he was too shocked and confused at the moment to say anything like that. “Huh,” Gob said after a moment, his mind slowly running through the conversations between the two of them.

Maybe Gary thinking Gob was hitting on him wasn’t that big of a problem after all.

* * *

_“You know, it’s actually a bit unfair that you can do that, you know?”_

_Gob looked up at Seth and asked, “Do what?”_

_“Play the cello that well when I’ve only given you two lessons,” Seth said. Gob laughed and Seth insisted, “Ivan really seems to love you.” Ivan was the name Seth had given his cello; Gob had always found that funny._

_Gob started a scale and said, “I did play bass for a bit, so I’m not completely new to this, but…I know I'm good.” He smirked and finished off the scale in tune._

_“You aren’t jealous, are you?” Gob asked as he adjusted his fingers to figure out a note in one of the pieces Seth was playing. Of course, he was just looking at it for fun since he wasn’t good enough to play at Seth’s level—yet._

_Seth raised an eyebrow. “That you can pick up instruments so well?”_

_“No,” Gob said, a smirk still on his face as he kept looking at the music. “I was wondering if you were jealous that there’s another man between my legs, because if you are, we can change that.” He looked up at Seth with a sly smile, and Seth’s eyebrows rose even higher._

_Ever since they started their relationship, Seth had learned a lot about his boyfriend. One of those things he learned was that Gob, as sexual as he could be, didn’t normally want sex more than a couple times a day. He was actually more into cuddling and snuggling and just being touched in nonsexual ways. And they had already had more sex than usual that day._

_But for the last few days, Gob had been…_ different _. More_ intense _, if that made sense. More hyper, more physical, practicing more than usual; Seth had to drag him to bed, since he didn’t seem to want to lie down, and even then he seemed to just wait for Seth to wake back up. Seth assumed it had to do with the heatwave that had just hit San Francisco, since his number one complaint since the move had been that he had to wear a jacket every day. But, whatever the cause, Seth was honestly tired, and possibly too tired for sex. Which, yes, as a man in his early 20s, he felt ridiculously pathetic for feeling._

 _“Ivan looks pretty comfortable where he is,” Seth said from where he was on the couch. “And_ Seth _is very comfortable where he is, too.”_

_“If you’re that comfy, I can just ride you there.”_

_Seth didn’t know his eyebrows could raise any higher. Mr. Pillow Princess himself wanted to ride him? Something really_ was _up…_

_…And that definitely included certain parts of Seth's anatomy._

_“You’re fucking insatiable," Seth groaned as he started to undo his belt._

_Gob grinned and put down the cello before making his way over to his boyfriend. “You love it,” he said as he straddled Seth’s hips, “And fucking me. And me.”_

_Despite himself, Seth couldn’t stop himself from smiling up at Gob. “I really do.”_

* * *

Maeby always knew Uncle Gob was the coolest member of her family—not counting herself, of course. That was why she was so disappointed during Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Gob had her for the first half of the day, then they were going to have lunch with Uncle Michael, and she was going to spend the rest of the day with him. But despite having a job that sounded  _way_ cooler than Michael's, Gob's job turned out to be _so lame_.

First, she had to sit in an orchestra rehearsal with a few other daughters. Gob barely played in the one piece he was in, and they kept stopping and starting and the one hour they spent in that room seemed to stretch for an eternity.

When they went to his office, she had to admit it was pretty cool. There was more sheet music than she had ever seen in there, and the piano was nice and the desk was actually really pretty. And when he started to practice, Maeby enjoyed sitting and listening to him.

At first.

But then time kept stretching on, and her uncle was still going through music, stopping every now and then to take notes or slowly go over difficult passages or even practice against a metronome.

“Is this all you do all day?” Maeby finally asked.

He seemed to forget she was even there, but then he turned to her and nodded with a smile. “Yeah. It’s pretty great, right? Making music all day? And then I get to perform. It’s…” he sighed happily and let his sentence end there. To him, there was no better career.

“…You just sit here alone all day? Doesn’t that get lonely?”

Gob frowned. “Well, I play with the orchestra sometimes. And I help play for chorus rehearsals, like Beethoven’s Ninth rehearsals we have for the last concert of the year. Or if Tim needs to run things with soloists, I play an orchestra reduction, so it's not always just me.”

“What about, like, groups or something?”

He paused and said, “Tony and I have some duets for the big Paganini concert we’re doing at the end of the next season, but, besides that, I don’t really have anything. And I like it that way; most chamber music with piano tends to turn into the piano just being background music. You’ll understand when you get older and start taking collaborative piano classes. It can be messy."

Maeby frowned. She had realized years ago she had no interest in actually being a professional pianist, but seeing her uncle’s life made her realize even more so that it really wasn’t for her. Having to sit around and practice all day didn’t really appeal to her. But, despite how much Maeby loved to let down her parents, the idea of letting down her uncle, who obviously want her to follow in his footsteps, actually really bummed her out.

It was super weird to feel like that about someone in her family.

“Speaking of messy, how are my ears doing?” Maeby asked. Gob grinned and soon pulled a five from behind her ear. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe I missed that in the shower,” she said. “Is there a vending machine around here?”

Maeby purposefully spent a long time getting a Coke and some Cheetos from the vending machines. Somehow, with that long break and an impromptu lesson, since she _did_ like playing even if she didn’t want to do it professionally, she managed to make it through to lunch time.

Of course, Michael was still in a meeting when they got to the Bluth Company, so lunch was a little delayed. Maeby and Gob went to sit in the kitchen, but there was someone already there.

"Gob! Hey!"

“Gary! Hi!” Gob greeted as he sat down at his table. Maeby had never heard him use that tone of voice before. It was…higher? _Gentler_? Maeby started to smirk as Gob explained the whole splitting of Take Your Daughter to Work Day thing. “I mean, obviously working at the orchestra is the clear winner, but I guess there are _some_ cool people in this office.”

“Thanks,” Gary laughed. “Well, nice to meet you, Maeby. I’m Gary.” Maeby nodded at him in greeting and he turned back to Gob. “If I had known you were coming, I would’ve waited to eat lunch; I’m just finishing up now.”

Gob looked slightly disappointed, but he kept a smile on his face. “No, yeah, totally, that’s fine; I get it,” Gob said with a nod as Maeby finally sat down at the table, too. “Michael should be done soon.”

“Yeah,” Gary said. He finished packing up his lunch and then said, “I wanted to tell you I checked out a few CDs of some of that Liszt stuff from the library,” Gary said. “Mostly piano stuff, but I found some orchestra stuff he did.”

“Yeah? How did you like it?” Gob asked eagerly.

“It was all _incredible_ ,” Gary said. “I know I’m not super knowledgeable about composers, especially compared to you, but  _wow_. Liszt might be my favorite composer now.”

Gob’s mouth suddenly went dry. “That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Thanks?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Well, anyways, I’ve gotta go. Have a good day, Gob,” Gary said. As an afterthought, he added, “You, too, Maeby.”

“Bye,” Gob said, watching Gary leave, his eyes definitely dropping down to his ass at one point.

When he turned back around, Maeby was looking at him with a knowing smile. “ _Someone’s_ got it bad,” she said simply. Before Gob could even figure out how to respond, Maeby explained, “Don't give me any sort of panicked reaction, Uncle Gob, I’ve known that you’re gay for years now.”

“Wait, really? How did— _Lindsay_ —”

"My mom didn’t tell me,” Maeby said. “Well, not directly; I heard you two talking about it years ago over Thanksgiving when my dad was out of town and you thought I had gone to sleep.”

Gob paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t _you_ tell _me_?” Maeby countered.

“It’s not because I didn’t trust you or anything; it’s just _complicated_ with your parents. Your mom worries—”

“Because my dad seems gay?” Maeby provided for him. Gob was stunned silent again and, yet again, she merely shrugged. “I’m not _that_ much younger than George Michael, you know; I’m able to put things together myself.” She frowned and added, “Honestly, he said you told him after that boat party thing, so I kinda hoped you’d actually tell me sooner.” Maeby looked back at her phone and opened up a game of Tetris.

Gob was stunned silent for a moment. He slowly collected his thoughts and then put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and he explained, “George Michael asked me a question that I didn’t want to avoid. I promise if you had asked, I would’ve told you. And I’m sorry I didn’t before. It’s…it’s been a weird issue for years now.”

For pretty much her whole life, Maeby always had some smart aleck retort or sarcastic remark to make after everything anyone told her. But her uncle was being really genuine with her and, well, her uncle was, like, her one soft spot—though maybe sometimes her cousin was, too, but that was a different story. Anyways, she didn’t feel like ruining the moment this time.

“I understand,” Maeby said.  “I know it’s not easy with Gangy and Pop-Pop. _Especially_ Pop-Pop.”

Gob looked at her curiously. “How much do you know about all of this?”

Maeby thought about it. “…I know that you and Pop-Pop don’t get along because you’re gay. I know that you punched him at some point before you moved away from home. Oh, and I heard you and my mom talk about your ‘friend’ Seth and I put together that he’s the Uncle Seth that I sort of remember.”

Gob blinked a few times to process that information. Maeby and Lindsay had visited a few times when they still lived together, but rarely. “…I honestly didn’t think you’d remember him.”

“Just bits and pieces,” Maeby said. “Like, I remember him playing cello and wearing glasses." She shrugged and Gob nodded. "Anyways, you should ask that Gary guy out; he seems to be into you, too."

"You really think so?"

"I'm not blind, so, yeah, I think so," Maeby replied. "Besides, _someone_ should actually get a chance to go for the guy they like in this family; Steve Holt and I kissed for that dumb play and he still barely knows I exist."

"Then he's an idiot," Gob said simply, though he had no idea who that was. He knew that was how you were supposed to respond to things like that, like when guys were stupid or when there was a break-up.

Well, that was how you were supposed to respond to break-ups _most_ of the time.

* * *

 _It had already been decided that Gob would spend the holidays in Newport and he was going to bring Seth down with him. But, to Michael and Tracey's surprise, Gob had shown up a few days earlier than planned with all of his belongings and no boyfriend in sight. He managed to mumble the words "broke-up" before all but locking himself in the guest room and blasting "[Love of My Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STIVLqxglZ4)" on repeat. Michael had tried everything to get him to talk, including healthy tactics, like just sitting with him and asking questions, as well as Bluth tactics, like sitting with him and drinking beer late until the night. Nothing worked. He just looked so..._ broken. _He wasn't even playing piano, even with his baby waiting for him in the living room or his keyboard in his room. And after years of doting on his nephew whenever he saw him, Gob was avoiding talking to him when he actually left his room._

_It probably didn't help that George Michael had babbled something about "Uncle Seth."_

_It was only when Lindsay got in town that Gob finally left his room for more than a meal; he seemed to know he couldn't avoid it anymore. Tracey had even left with George Michael to go visit Maeby and Tobias at the Four Seasons, just so the three of them could have space to themselves to talk and, in Bluth Family Tradition, drink. Lindsay, much like she had the day Freddie Mercury died, brought over an expensive bottle of whiskey and let Gob drink in relative peace for a while. It was hard to be patient, though, since they both really wanted to know how a relationship that had made Gob so happy could end so suddenly._

_After a few glasses, Lindsay asked, "Are you ready to tell us what happened?"_

_Gob looked over at Michael and then Lindsay, both of whom were looking at him hopefully. He closed his eyes and nodded before taking another sip of his drink. “...I know I spent the last few Christmases with the Evanses. But since everyone was going to be here for once, I wanted to come back. And Michael and Tracey said I should invite Seth.”_

_Gob took a sip of his drink and looked at a spot on the floor. “He knew it was a big deal. Because it would mean that I didn’t care what dad thought; it’d mean that…that we could…we could be somehow be even more official than we are—were.” He rolled his eyes a bit to fight off some tears. Lindsay and Michael looked at each other with concern but remained silent. They didn’t want to discourage Gob from talking. “So, he wanted to make sure we were on the same page when it came to our future.” Gob finished off his whiskey and put his glass on the coffee table, telling Lindsay to pour him another one._

_“And, for the most part, we were. We wanted the same things; we’d keep making music, we’d build a home for us, we’d see you guys and his family…legally speaking, it’d be pointless, but we could have some ceremony…” Lindsay brought a hand to her heart and Michael winched silently; they hadn't realized it had gotten to that point._

_Gob took a sip of the freshly poured whiskey and said, “The problem was, he wants kids. And god knows I’d be an awful dad, seeing as I have the world’s worst example.”_

_Finally, Michael spoke up. “Gob, you’d be a_ great _dad. You’re_ so good _with our kids.”_

_Lindsay nodded. “You would be. And Michael’s a great dad, even with our father.”_

_“Michael didn’t have the same father as me,” Gob said darkly. He looked to Michael, “You had a dad that was hard on you, but he ultimately believed in you. I got a dad who made me feel worthless my whole life, just because of what I love to do—what I’m good at doing. Just because it was too 'gay' for him.”_

_Gob slammed back his whiskey and asked for more. As Lindsay filled his glass nervously, Gob shook his head. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I don’t want to be a father. I never have. But Seth has wanted to be one for forever, I guess. And if there’s not a future we can agree on…there’s no point wasting more time.”_

_As Gob blinked quickly, his eyes fixated on a spot in the carpet, Michael couldn’t stop himself asking, “So, that’s it?” He just couldn’t believe four years of a relationship could end like that. What if Gob changed his mind about kids? What if Seth did?_

_“ _…_ No, that’s not it,” Gob said quietly. “Once we realized that was an issue, we…we started talking some more. And we just realized that…we want different things right now, too. Things that the other person can’t bring. I get wanting to live in the same place and all of that, but I don't want that place to be San Francisco, and…he needs order and…and someone who’s stable. And that’s not me._

_“And I need someone who’ll go on adventures in the middle of the night or steal pies for the hell of it.” He bit his lip for a moment and said, “And that’s not him. And I_ know _that’s not him and I know…I know we’re not…we_ were _happy, but we’re not, like,_ The One _for each other, you know? I've always thought we were because we're friends that have some fucking fantastic sex, but you need more than that _…_ But…he’s been my everything for _four years _—_ _eight years, really. Ever since I met him, Seth has been…he’s been everything I’ve ever needed. He taught me so much about music and the world and myself—I don’t think I would’ve even realized I was gay if it wasn’t for him. And, god, I am just…so gay.” Gob laughed a little and sniffed before continuing, “He was the first person I slept with that I actually really,_ really _wanted to sleep with and, fuck, he just is…I already miss the sex. A lot. And,_ god _, I know we’re gonna be friends, since I know we need each other in our lives, but…but it still really hurts.”_

 _Gob wiped at his eyes and took a few shaky breaths. “You know, at least with Dave I could just write him off, but…but I_ can’t _with Seth. Because I_ still _love and care about him and I always will. And with Dave, I don’t know if I was really in love with him by the end or not, but even if I was, there was always,_ always _the thought of Seth in the corner of my mind. Like, just sitting there, telling me…maybe. Maybe one day. And I know I’m so lucky that I got that for as long as I did. But…but if I can’t make it work with_ Seth _, who_ can _I make it work with?”_

 _There was a small silence as all three of them waited for one of the others to speak. Finally, Lindsay moved to sit next to Gob on the piano bench. “Gob,” Lindsay said softly, kindly, her hand resting on top of his, “You’ll find someone. You_ will _. Someone who’ll love you and go on adventures with you and make you happier than you’ve ever been. Even happier than you were with Seth.”_

_“Gob, it’s one break-up,” Michael said sympathetically. “You’ve only dated two guys; it’s not like you’re a failure for not finding the right one yet. You and Seth were, like, eighteen when you met; people don’t meet their soulmate at eighteen.”_

_“_ You _did,” Gob replied immediately._

 _Michael froze; he walked right into that one. “…Technically I was nineteen,” he mumbled. "But, you’re right._ Most _people don’t. I was…I was really,_ really _lucky. And I don’t know how, but I was. But just because you and Seth aren’t meant to be, it doesn’t mean you won’t find someone else.”_

_“Exactly,” Lindsay said. “And Michael said you want to move in the new year, right? To Vegas?” Gob nodded. “Well, imagine how many cute boys are gonna be there wanting a taste of you.” She waved a finger at him, “You have to promise me you’ll be careful, whatever you do, but, well…the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”_

_“Lindsay!” Michael chastised her._

_“What? He’s allowed to have some casual sex to get over a bad break-up; don’t be so homophobic,_ Michael. _”_

 _“Yeah,_ Michael _, don’t be homophobic,” Gob volleyed right back._

_Michael rolled his eyes, but at least the fact that Gob was saying what was basically his catchphrase was a sign that he was feeling better. Letting all of it out seemed to help more than any of them expected._

_"And I know the song is beautiful, but I think you need to stop listening to 'Love of My Life' for a while, okay?" Michael said gently. "Because he's not the love of your life."_

_Gob sighed heavily. “Michael _…_ Freddie wrote that for Mary Austin. He always said she was the real love of his life. That even when he…even when he dated other people, she couldn’t be replaced. They lived next door to each other, he was her son’s godfather…They were still best friends after everything.”_

_They were all silent for a moment before Michael quietly assured him, “If that's what you want, I’m sure Seth will be that for you.” Michael couldn’t believe an eight-year friendship would end, even given the circumstances._

_Gob nodded, a few tears falling from his eyes. "I really hope so."_

_Lindsay wrapped an arm around her brother and then looked at the piano behind them. "Do you wanna play it one more time? On your baby?"_

_Gob looked at his sister, then his piano, and then over at Michael. "You won't hate me if I do that?" Gob asked him._

_Michael laughed softly and said, "Go ahead; I've missed you playing." Gob smiled softly and, after another wipe of his eyes and a sniff, he turned around, opened the keys, and started to play the piano intro. But when the verse started, the notes seemed to get caught in his throat. He wasn't sure he could sing it._

"Love of my life, you've hurt me,"  _Lindsay provided for him. He kept on playing and she continued as his voice._ "You've broken my heart, and now you leave me _…_ "

* * *

Gob knew his dad going on the lam with Kitty wasn’t good for the company. It was very bad publicity and he knew that…But, okay, no Kitty meant he actually felt comfortable stopping by the office that summer. And that was good because, after talking a lot with Nancy, he felt prepared to actually start a studio. And seeing as he didn’t have orchestra rehearsals or anything over the summer months, he needed _some_ way to supplement his income.

So, under her guidance, Gob started putting out ads and making lesson plans and all of that stuff. And when he needed to make copies of those things or practice logs or any of the music theory info he tried to teach the kids, he’d stop over by the Bluth Company to use their copier for free.

And sometimes he’d, you know, swing by the kitchen if Gary was on break. Or if he just wanted a cookie or something. You know, no big deal. It was just so Gob would have someone to talk to while he waited to see if his brother was up for lunch. Or sometimes he’d come by towards the end of the day to make sure Michael actually left the office before it got dark. And maybe sometimes it was when Gary was getting off, too, and they’d end up talking a bit. But, again, it wasn’t a big deal. They were just coincidences.

But _Michael_ apparently saw it as a big deal, and he finally addressed it when Gob had finished giving Maeby a piano lesson at the model home.

"I didn’t see you at work today. That’s the first time in, what, two weeks?” Michael asked when Gob joined him and Lindsay in the kitchen.

Gob rolled his eyes. “Sorry that me trying to run my own business means I need to use your copier.”

“Yeah, we both know that’s not why you’re there.”

“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked.

Michael smirked, looking so _smug_. “Gob’s got a bit of a crush on someone.”

Gob scoffed. “I do _not_.”

No one believed him. Obviously.

“Who is it? Who’s Gob’s mystery man?” Lindsay asked excitedly, just as Maeby walked in to grab a soda.

Maeby laughed, “You mean that Gary guy? Have you still not asked him out?”

Lindsay raised her eyebrows at her daughter. “Wait, how did _you_ find out—”

“I’m not—I don’t want—he’s _just_ a friend,” Gob interrupted, though his face heated up a bit as he said that. And, yes, everyone noticed.

“Awww, it’s so cute! You’ve _totally_ got a crush!” Lindsay teased, poking his side.

“I do _not_!” Gob insisted as he tried to move away from her. “And Michael wouldn’t want me dating an employee anyways.”

That just made Lindsay’s smile even wider. “ _Dating_? Not just hooking up with? You want to _date_ him?”

“I never said that!”

“You _implied_ it,” Michael said. “Well, I know it’d be weird, but I wouldn’t be totally against you dating someone if you were actually serious. And you seem pretty serious.” Gob looked like he was going to argue, but he eventually just crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

“Gary…he’s the Office Assistant, right? Dark hair? A bit smaller?” Lindsay asked. Michael nodded and Lindsay laughed and turned to Gob. “God…you really _do_ have a type, don’t you?”

Gob just rolled his eyes again as Michael laughed.

* * *

 _The first thing Michael heard when he got back to the house was Gob saying, “Dave wasn’t even my usual type. Like, looks-wise.” Michael paused for a moment at the door, not because the information was surprising or anything, but because Gob…Gob didn’t sound upset or angry or anything like he had before. Michael had left shortly after Gob had finally managed to stop sobbing on the kitchen floor after a complete meltdown about his breakup with Dave, but now Gob sounded…_ normal _._

_As Michael walked in further into the house, he saw his girlfriend and sister sandwiching Gob between the two of them on the couch, the now empty ice cream gallon on his lap. Tracey was nodding sympathetically. “Dave isn’t that cute,” she agreed. Lindsay nodded as well, though she had never met him._

_"No, he’s hot,” Gob said honestly. “He just isn’t my usual type. Like, I usually—” Gob cut himself off as he saw his brother with a bag of ice cream. Gob busied himself with tearing open a pint as the girls did, too, and thanked his brother quietly before falling silent._

_“Go on,” Lindsay said, nudging him a little. Gob’s eyes darted over to Michael for a split second and Lindsay frowned._

_“Do you want me to leave?” Michael asked. He felt like this was possibly some, like, sacred thing that girls and gay guys did that maybe he shouldn’t be a part of it. But, then again, Michael wanted to help, and leaving felt like the complete opposite of that. “I can if you want—”_

_“You can stay,” Gob said, not looking at him._

_“No comments,” Lindsay told Michael with a warning look. Gob nodded in agreement, still avoiding eye contact. Michael nodded as well and sat down on the floor next to the coffee table. He took the ice cream sandwich he had gotten himself and let the girls and Gob keep talking._

_After a bit more encouragement, Gob managed to say, “I normally like shorter guys?” He wasn’t used to talking about what he found attractive in guys, especially not with his brother around. “I mean, like, almost everyone’s shorter than me, and he was technically shorter, but not by much, you know?” Gob said._

_“Yeah, I get that,” Lindsay said with a nod. “Short guys normally try harder. At everything.”_

_“Definitely,” Gob and Tracey said at the same time. That made both Gob and Lindsay laugh as Tracey quickly insisted Michael tried a lot, too. Like, a lot a lot. But not like so much that he was desperate or anything. Michael gave Tracey a reassuring nod, but didn’t say anything, as promised._

_"I guess it's mostly because the first guy I was ever with was like that. Shorter, dark hair...really cute..." Gob smiled at the memory of him. "But, also…” he shifted his weight around a bit, looking a bit nervous to even say what he was thinking out loud. But, god, he just wanted to actually finally admit something he’d never been able to admit before._

_“Yeah?” Lindsay asked, encouraging him to go on._

_Getting uncharacteristically shy, he admitted, “With short guys…I kind like when they get all…_ dominating _? I don’t know, something about the size difference is hot, I guess?”_

 _Lindsay blinked and for a moment, Gob thought he had gone too far. Then she rolled her eyes. “_ That’s it? _That’s the thing you were too scared to say out loud? I expected something wilder than_  that.”

_“I’m not used to admitting this stuff, okay?”_

_“Okay, okay,” Lindsay laughed. "Well, that first guy sounds a lot cuter than this Dave guy."_

_Gob smiled shyly and nodded. "Yeah...Seth's really cute; hopefully you'll meet him some day."_

* * *

“You're going as George Michael? Really?” Michael asked, scanning his older brother's costume of a pink sweater, fingerless yellow gloves, and short-shorts.

“Might as well make it clear to all the straight girls that I’m gay before they get their hearts broken,” Gob said with a shrug as he slid into the car. "It's the noble thing to do if I'm helping you all out at this straight bar, wingman style."

"I think they're just called 'bars'," Michael said.

"I think it's _homophobic_ to call not-gay bars just regular bars," Gob fired back, "Especially ones doing an '80s night."

“Well, I think that costume worked better when you had more hair,” Michael said.

“Shut up,” Gob said, kicking Michael’s seat. “It’s cooler than being Marty McFly.” Of course, the fact that Michael had dressed up at all had surprised Gob in the first place, even if Marty McFly was basically Michael's natural wardrobe. 

“I think you look _great_ , Gob,” Lindsay said from the passenger’s seat. She had, of course, gone for full-on Madonna complete with fishnet gloves, lots of black tulle, a fake beauty mark, and, of course, one of those T-necklaces she always wore in the '80s.

“ _Thank you_ , Linds.”

“I think it would look even better if you let me pierce your ears before we got there,” she teased. Gob quickly angled his head as far from her as possible while she laughed; his fear of needles was well-known.

Once they got to the place, Gob frowned. “This looks pretty dead already,” he said as they got out of the car. There were a fair number of cars, but not as much as you’d expect on a Saturday night. And there definitely wasn’t any booming bass to be heard. Maybe straight bars just weren’t as loud as gay ones? Gob still checked to make sure he had his earplugs just in case.

But, despite how quiet it had been outside, he was greeted with a wall of sound when he entered the bar, just not from music. There was a loud scream of “ _Surprise!_ ” and people popping out and Gob looked around quickly. There was a happy birthday banner with his name on it in the background, some balloons, and pretty much every single friend he had in Newport Beach: Hot Cops, some orchestra friends, and even Buster, Maeby, and George Michael (the Bluth one, not the singer).

“I…what?” Gob asked. “It’s not my birthday."

“Yeah, well, September fourth isn’t your real birthday,” Lindsay pointed out. “Which, honestly, we should’ve known since there’s no way you’re a Virgo. You’re totally a Cancer or  _maybe_ a Leo.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “ _Anyways_ , we figured doing it in August would be the real way to surprise you and help make up for the birthdays we've missed over the years.”

“And we could both use a party,” Lindsay said. “We got a DJ taking any sort of music requests, though preferably 80s, of course. There’s a piano for whenever you decide to perform, since we know that’s gonna happen. And we tried to invite everyone we could.”

“And we made sure not to invite Tobias.”

“Or mom. You wouldn’t want to have mom at a party like this.”

"Buster heard about it and really wanted to come," Michael added. He knew Gob was a bit weary around Buster when it came to his sexuality, since no one really knew if he understood that Gob was gay or not, and he knew Gob would probably show off his sexuality pretty obviously in a party like this, but it seemed cruel to not invite Buster. Gob seemed to understand and he nodded.

Lindsay looked at Gob hopefully and asked, “So? Is this party Gob Bluth approved?”

Gob looked around at his friends in '80s costumes and nodded. “Yeah. This is as close as you could get to a Gob Bluth Party without my trademark—wait, alcohol is included, right?”

“We’re not _idiots_ ,” Michael said.

And with that, Gob got himself a drink and the DJ started to throw on some tracks.

Gob, like the amazing party host he was, made sure to go around and greet everyone. He started with the cousins, since Michael said that Buster would make sure they got home before their curfew, plus he had to make the joke about how there were two George Michaels at the party. He then greeted his baby brother, some of the select people from the orchestra Michael and Lindsay had invited, and all of his Hot Cop friends. One of the little guys actually jumped on him with a hug and a few others said they’d go home with him if he wanted a real birthday present, Derrick in particular giving his ass a small smack that definitely intrigued him.

With that thought still in mind, he ordered his second drink at the bar.

“Great minds think alike, huh?” Gob whipped his head around and spotted Tony for the first time. He was wearing white pants and a white shirt with large letters declaring **_CHOOSE LIFE_**.

Gob laughed. “Seeing as I already claimed George Michael, I guess you’re Andrew Ridgeley. Nice choice.”

Tony laughed; he had missed Gob over the summer, since he'd been out of town, visiting his family and performing in a few places.

And, seriously, was there anything gayer than actually knowing the second member of Wham by name? 

“It’s the only 1980s thing I still have that isn’t just, like, extremely gothic or boring. We were all told to go all out for the birthday boy, so…happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“I thought your birthday was in September, though.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s my _legal_ birthday,” Gob said with a small laugh. “My mom got knocked up with me, so my parents eloped and then paid off some guy so my birth certificate would say I was born in September. She’d never tell me the real date; she probably doesn’t even remember it.” Gob said it all simply, like it was something that just happened every day, and Tony actually felt concerned about that.

Still, he tried to respond by saying, “I never thought you were much of a Virgo.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been a virgin since I was fourteen,” Gob replied with a shrug. He noticed Lindsay making a request at the DJ’s station as the current song started to wrap up. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, and he finished his drink off in prep.

Sure enough, he heard the familiar drum beat and synth for the family song, and he grinned as Lindsay gestured towards him and Michael and Buster. “Gotta go; it’s our family song,” Gob said as an explanation. Gob made his way over to the center of the dance floor to the beat, glad to see that Buster eagerly joined—he was just happy to be included—and even Michael made his way over, probably already a bit drunker than he had intended. And with that, they started their dumb dance that they somehow still knew after almost twenty years.

Really, their dance to “[Material Girl](https://youtu.be/6p-lDYPR2P8?t=30)” was mainly made of steps to the sides and simple arm movements, since none of them really knew how to dance except for Lindsay, and they had made the dance up in the confines of Lindsay's room. But Gob had definitely gained some more hip flexibility over the years due to his strip jobs, and he definitely made use of that in their number as his Hot Cop friends started to follow the simple dance they had to the chorus.

“Our whole family is embarrassing,” Maeby noted to her cousin as they watched the dancing from the sidelines. George Michael nodded in agreement, desperately trying to look at anything that wasn’t his dad’s attempt at dancing.

That soon faded to another '80s song and another and another. While a few current hits and '90s and '70s songs snuck in, most of the songs were ones that had defined the better part of Gob's childhood. He was drinking heavily and dancing and laughing. He danced suggestively with some of the Hot Cops when the DJ put on “[Another One Bites the Dust](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rY0WxgSXdEE)”, he whooped as "[Video Killed the Radio Star](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iwuy4hHO3YQ)" started to blare, and he got really into dancing to “[Footloose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFWDGTVYqE8)” with Lindsay.

He was in the middle of dancing to “[Take On Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djV11Xbc914)” when Tony found him again. Gob smiled at him and Tony gestured for him to take out his earplugs, which Gob obliged.

“I requested our song, so get ready!” Gob wasn’t sure what Tony meant by that, but he nodded and put his earplugs back in, smiling a bit when he saw Tony place some in his ears as well. He didn’t know too many people who wore those out to clubs.

Soon enough, “Take on Me” faded out, and the next thing Gob heard was the low utterance of “ _[Jitterbug!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIgZ7gMze7A)_ ”

Like a Pavlovian response, Gob hit George Michael’s pose—the singer, not his nephew—and snapped, his hips moving in time to the next utterance of “ _Jitterbug!_ ” He _had_ seen the music videos more time than he could count, after all. It seemed Tony had, too as he perfectly executed an air guitar strum in the style of Andrew Ridgeley.

Gob laughed loudly as the verse started and, doing his best George Michael—again, the singer, not the nephew—he started to swing his hips and his arms, occasionally clapping his hands together. Though it had been a while since he’d watched the video, his body seemed to remember it, enough so that he actually jumped into the air in time with when he knew George Michael did it in the video.

He landed next to Tony, and though they were both wearing earplugs, they both could hear the other singing as loud as possible as they pointed to each other, “ _I was dreaming, but I should have been with you instead!_ ” They laughed and continued to dance like earlier as they sang along. " _Wake me up before you go-go, don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!_ "

The two of them kept laughing and singing loudly as they danced along, possibly making complete and utter fools of themselves in the process. In fact, Maeby was considering taking back any statement she had ever made saying that Gob was the coolest member of their family. Lindsay was having too much fun dancing herself to notice too much, but both Buster and Michael were standing off to the side and watching. Buster was smiling and nodding along while Michael just smirked. How did he ever think Gob was straight?

Their dancing mostly stayed the same until they reached the bridge. Gob and Tony grabbed hands, as if reading the other's mind on what to do. “ _Cuddle up baby, move in tight. We’ll go dancing tomorrow night_ ,” they sang, getting in a bit closer.

“ _It’s cold out there, but it’s warm in bed. They can dance—we’ll stay home instead!_ ” they screamed/sang together before trying to do the partner dance from the video. Neither of them knew what the hell they were doing and they ended up crashing into each other, which, of course, just made them laugh even harder as the song kept playing. They settled on just swinging their arms around a bit. Gob spun Tony under his arm at one point, and Tony tried to do the same to Gob, but they struggled with the height difference, which made them laugh louder.

Once the song ended, Tony and Gob were laughing hysterically and they made their way over to the bar. Both of them were a little out of breath from the laughter and from how much energy they had put into that dance number. They were basically leaning on each other as they made their way over to the bar. Gob couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard; he definitely couldn't remember anyone ever getting as over-the-top during a party as him like Tony just did.

“You make a great George Michael,” Tony said once they reached the bar and they both pulled out their ear plugs, “Even if you don’t have his hair.” Then Tony suddenly reached forward and touched Gob’s hair, obviously a bit drunk as he ran his hand through it.

“Not all of us get thick hair, okay?” Gob said with a laugh. 

“It’s still nice,” Tony murmured as he pulled his hand back. “Soft.”

“Thanks,” Gob said, completely oblivious to Tony’s change in tone, though he did notice that he was closer than usual. He could smell that nice cologne he wore. "You smell nice."

Tony thanked him and Gob admitted, "I really missed you this summer." It really wasn't until that night that he realized he  _had_ missed the guy he had considered his competition.

"I missed you, too," Tony said after a moment, an odd look in his eyes.

Before Gob could say anything else, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He swiveled in his bar stool and felt his heart jump out of his chest. “Gary!” he said excitedly. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” he said. “Sorry I’m so late.”

“No, it’s no problem!” Gob insisted. “I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“That’s the point of a surprise party.”

Gob laughed and ducked his head. “Y-yeah…yeah, it is.”

The two of them looked at each other for a few moments in silence. Tony watched, feeling very uncomfortable, but he wasn’t sure if he should slip out silently or tell them that he was leaving or what.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Gob alone…

Eventually, it turned out he didn’t have a choice. The sound of a familiar piano intro filled the air and Gob sat up straight as a board. “ _Shit_ , not this one—”

He cut himself off and looked out at the crowd. Without even looking for her, Gob saw Lindsay in a similar state of panic. Her eyes also were also searching the crowd like Gob’s were. Gob stood up and finally spotted who he was looking for: Michael.

Michael was standing next to a very anxious looking Buster with a sad look on his face as he stared at a spot on the floor.

“ _Highway run_ —”

“Fuck!” Gob ran over to the DJ as he saw Lindsay run over to Michael.

“ _Into the midnight sun…_ ”

Of all Journey songs, why did he have to play Michael and Tracey’s first dance?

“Turn it off!” Gob yelled at the DJ once he made it there, covering his own ears as he realized he hadn’t put his earplugs back in.

“WHAT?”

“ _Right down the line it’s been you and me_ …”

“TURN IT OFF!” Gob yelled again, trying to signal him, but the man didn’t seem to get it.

“ _I’m forever yours, faithf_ —”

The music cut off in the middle of the word when Gob, desperate to shut it off, pulled out the plug of the stereo system.

Gob breathed a sigh of relief, even as the DJ started to berate him and people were muttering all around the room. It definitely seemed strange that Gob had freaked out over a Journey song of all things.

But Gob ignored that as he looked across the room at his siblings. Lindsay and Buster each had a hand on Michael’s shoulders. He saw Michael nod at something Lindsay said and then look up at him. He mouthed a _thank you_ in Gob’s direction and Gob nodded with a small smile.

“I’m gonna need a few minutes before this stuff’s ready to go again,” the DJ informed Gob.

“…I guess it’s time for my piano solo,” Gob said cheerily. He bounded over to the keyboard and mic set-up and smiled. Okay, he was always in his element at parties like this, but when he got to perform at parties? That made it all the better.

He played a few chords and spoke into the mic, “Well, while we’re waiting for the music to come back—this time, no Journey allowed—I wanted to say thanks for everyone for coming out to this. And…” Gob looked at his younger siblings and then at Gary and, well, he knew the perfect song to play. He did his best to hold back a sigh as he settled at the bench.

It wasn’t like he hated the song. In fact, he really loved it, and it was one of the first songs he ever taught himself how to play completely by ear. But after years of being asked to play it repeatedly in piano bars and years of his siblings wanting to hear it yet again, Gob was sick of it. Actually, part of why his siblings would always request it was just to annoy him. Normally it took him several more drinks to agree to play it, but Michael definitely needed to cheer up, and Gary liked Billy Joel…

“This song is from the 1970s, but it’s definitely semi-autobiographical and it's my party, so I can do whatever the fuck I want. And I know my siblings love to hear me play it, so, as a thank you to them for this whole night…” Gob closed his eyes and rolled them before playing a piano riff that made his family and a few others cheer, while others laughed or groaned. Gob kept his eyes closed as he played the intro, not opening them until he was fully in the swing of the music.

“ _[It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday](https://youtu.be/gxEPV4kolz0); the regular crowd shuffles in. There’s an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin…_ ” Gob sang as he played.

Gob regretted not lowering the key; he had forgotten how high the song was. But Gob was a spectacular showman, even while several drinks in and dressed in the shortest shorts he owned and singing higher than his voice naturally sat. He sold the performance just like he always did, not letting any discomfort show. He got the crowd to join in on singing, he kept the beat consistent, he even showed emotion in his voice, but also joked that people should wave their lighters if they had them.

But, of course, it was the final verse that always got him. That was the part that truly was autobiographical in its own weird way, and it was the part that made him really emotional every time he got to it.

“ _And the piano, it sounds like a carnival, and the microphone smells like a beer, and they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar, and say, ‘Man, what are you doing here?’”_ Gob sang passionately, his voice raw as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He remembered getting his own tips for the first time at fifteen when he played for his first ever Bluth Company Christmas party. He remembered being told he was so talented, how people had gushed to his parents, how he started to slowly get recognized for actually being _good_ at something. He remembered when he started to get jobs based on his talents. He remembered playing in piano bars for extra cash and earning all kinds of compliments.

Of course, he could also remember playing for drunk college kids at karaoke bars in LA and San Francisco. Gob could remember playing for crappy community theater productions and practicing Chopin in between stripping jobs. Despite all the things he had coasted on in his past, things he got away with due to his looks and money and last name, he had worked his ass off for music, for his craft, spending hours upon hours day in and day out to do what he loved.

“ _Sing us a song, you’re the piano man…_ ”

Yeah, he sure fucking _was_ the Piano Man. And he had earned every god damn right to call himself that and sing that song.

Gob finished off the song with the outro and a rolled chord at the end, taking a moment before he took his hands off the keys. He stood up and took a grand bow as his mostly drunk friends clapped hard for him and cheered him on.

Once the music was back on, Gob almost ran back to see his siblings, thanking a few of his friends for their compliments along the way.

“Nice job, Piano Man,” Lindsay greeted him.

“That was so fun,” Buster said excitedly.

Michael smiled at Gob and said, “That was fantastic.”

“Thanks. You feeling okay?” Gob asked.

Michael nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was caught off guard, but…” Michael took a deep breath and nodded again. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“Good,” Gob said.

"That was so good!" Maeby gushed breathlessly as she ran over.

"Yeah, that was amazing," George Michael agreed.

"I think this is the perfect time for you kids to head home," Michael said. "You finally got the show part of the night; it's all going down hill from here."

Both George Michael and Maeby looked a bit disappointed, but they agreed, each of them taking a turn to hug their uncle and wish him a happy birthday again. Buster also wrapped Gob up in a hug before heading out with the kids, muttering something about their mom and Uncle Oscar which Gob decided to ignore for the sake of his own sanity.

He went to the restroom once they left just to get away from the noise for a bit. He splashed some water on his face while he was in there and took a few breaths. The song had really gotten to him that time around.

When he left, he found out Gary had waited for him in the hallway.

“Hey,” Gob said. “The whole leaving thing earlier? There’s a whole _thing_ with that song.”

“It’s fine,” Gary replied. “At least it led to me hearing you play. Finally.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? And what did you think?”

Gary smirked playfully and answered, “I’m sure I was feeling the same things all those crowds felt when they watched Liszt play.”

“Jesus,” Gob breathed out. “That’s seriously so fucking hot—”

Gob was cut off as Gary leaned up on his toes to kiss him hard on the lips. Gob’s eyes closed as his stomach leapt, his hands moving to rest lightly on Gary’s shoulders.

The kiss was over quicker than Gob would’ve liked. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at Gary, a small smile on his lips. “Was that just a birthday present, or can we do that again sometime?” He tilted his head a little and asked, “You know, maybe sometime a bit earlier in the night, with me wearing pants? Well, at first.”

“I’d like that.”

Once Gob had Gary’s phone number stored on his cell, Gary said, “I should get going, but give me a call sometime.” Gob nodded and leaned down to give Gary another kiss before he could go, this one slightly deeper until he forced himself to pull away. Gary gave him one more smile and wished him a happy birthday before turning and leaving, nearly bumping into Tony on his way out.

Gob, however, didn’t notice any of that as he looked down at his phone with a giddy grin. After a while, he _did_ notice “[Livin’ on a Prayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDK9QqIzhwk)” blasting on the dance floor. He smiled and shook his head at himself before storing his phone back in his pocket and putting his ear plugs back in so he could face the music.

* * *

_It didn’t take as long as expected for Seth and Gob to find a place up in San Francisco. They were lucky enough to find a place in what wasn’t necessarily the best neighborhood, but the apartment was nice and rent controlled and a one bedroom, meaning they could still have space for a piano._

_And a one bedroom meant that, yeah, they definitely were in a relationship. Despite all of Gob’s uncertainty over what they were after all the years they knew each other, it just seemed that they were finally at a point in their life that they could be together. It was a realization and conversation they had pretty early into their move to San Francisco while they lived in a hostel and looked for places. Of course, there wasn’t too much they could do in the hostel past a few stolen kisses when no one was around, seeing as, you know, shared living space._

_So, when they finally had a place of their own, the lack of furniture didn’t stop them from finally fucking again._

_“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard before we got a bed,” Gob said as he rubbed at his lower back._

_“Or at least not on the floor…” Seth agreed, his own knees rather sore as well. “Are you okay?”_

_"_ Please _, it would take more than one hard fuck to break me,” Gob said. He smirked when he added, “I wouldn’t mind you trying again, though.”_

_Seth laughed. “Well, I did say I needed all the gay experience of being in California while in San Francisco…”_

_That night, Gob and Seth used a sleeping bag for padding and shared a blanket Gob had stolen from the hostel. It was a less than ideal situation, but it was going to take at least a week before their mattress would be delivered. Maybe they’d be able to at least get an air mattress as they waited for things to get there, but they’d have to check their budget, since Gob needed to get some sort of keyboard before they could even consider any extra furniture. They were fine on the absolute basics and food and all, but money was going to be a bit tight for a while, and that was something Gob had never experienced before. It frankly scared him; he had never had to actually budget his money._

_But despite all those fears, Gob was the most comfortable he had been since he moved up to San Francisco as he nuzzled against Seth’s neck and held him in his arms. He knew it sounded cheesy, but now that he had Seth in his life again, everything felt so right. With Seth at his side, he finally knew things were going to be okay, even if his dad hated him, even if he had to live hundreds of miles away from his family. As long as he had Seth, he knew he’d be okay._

_That Bon Jovi song had never made more sense than it did in that moment. He had Seth to hold onto, and that was enough._

_“…I love you,” Gob whispered as he closed his eyes. His stomach clenched in nervousness at saying that for the first time. It was at least the first time he said it when it came to, you know, being_ in _love with someone._

_After a moment, Seth moved his head enough to press a kiss to Gob’s forehead. “I love you, too.”_

* * *

Rehearsals soon started back up at the orchestra. Gob wasn’t involved in any of the stuff on the first concert, but he still went to the first rehearsal to greet everyone, particularly the people who hadn’t been able to make his party. Surprisingly enough, it was kind of like he was in college again or something; he actually had missed everyone and was excited to be back to work. And now that some of the members knew just how much he liked to party, he could actually feel like his old rep was back, too.

Eventually he went back to his office and, much like the year before, Tony eventually stopped by to talk. It was nice; Gob had definitely missed him over the summer, too, and they hadn’t really had a chance to talk at his party.

“Thanks for coming to the party, by the way,” Gob said at one point.

“Of course. Michael asked me who you’d want to invite from here; I hope I chose correctly.”

“He did?” Gob asked. “Well, yeah, you did a great job. So, thanks again.”

“No problem.” Tony leaned over the crook of the piano and asked, “You’re, uh, not a big fan of Journey, huh?”

“I mean, they’re pretty overrated, don’t you think?”

Tony laughed a little. “I guess, but I meant the whole ‘Faithfully’ thing at your party. I’ve never seen someone so determined to stop a song since I tried playing Schoenberg for my family.”

“Ha. I had that same experience with Michael,” Gob laughed. After a moment he explained, “That song was Michael’s first dance with his wife, Tracey—I mean ‘Faithfully’, not Schoenberg…Tracey died a couple years back, so it's hard for him.”

“Oh,” Tony said softly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Gob nodded. “Yeah…Tracey was a great lady. And really the perfect woman for Michael. You know, they got married for the same reasons my parents did, because Tracey got pregnant during their sophomore year of college, but they were already engaged before then. They were really just that couple that _belonged_ together, you know?” He sighed to himself and shook his head. He had always wondered what it would be like to find that person for himself. Hopefully he'd find that man soon.

Or, he wondered, maybe he already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Well, first of all, as usual, I really hope you all liked it! I'd love to hear what you think. 
> 
> I apologize that this got so long and that it took even longer to update. I kept debating if I really wanted to go with the midgame or not, and I decided it just lead to too many plot points I want in the next chapter to not have it. I always feel bad when I write a really long chapter like this, since I know it can be a lot for people, but I really wanted to have the flashbacks to help showcase Gob's past relationships and explain the situation with Seth, too. Obviously it focused on Seth, but I figured I should at least mention Dave since that was his real first dating experience. I definitely had even more flashbacks that I took out and some were shortened because I had a lot of ground I wanted to cover, and this chapter sets up a lot of little seeds for the upcoming chapters. In the future I hope to publish a bunch of one shots from this universe so you'll hopefully see them at some point! And I hope you enjoyed the 80s music and I hope to god I'm not the only one who permanently associates Ben Stiller with Wham and orange mocha frapuccinos lmao. I had to resist making some reference to that.
> 
> Also, seeing _Bohemian Rhapsody_ last week really helped motivate me, as did all the people on the Blunder Bus who talked with me about Gob and how much he obviously cried during that movie! Special shout out to GoldStarGrl for her comparison of Seth to Mary Austin because, wow, you're so right. Also many thanks to everyone who helped when I was asking about Bluth Christmas traditions!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you liked it and thanks for reading! As always, the playlist can be found [here](https://8tracks.com/valenciaperez/etude-no-3-in-g-sharp-minor-s-141)! <3


	6. Notturno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Notturno (Op. 6, no.2)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Up6esqYMGU)  
>  By Clara Schumann

**Notturno (Nocturne) ( _Soirées Musicales_ ,Op. 6, no. 2)**

“You really didn’t have to drive me,” Gob told Michael once he picked him up.

Michael simply replied, “Well, seeing as you’ve forgotten to go many times over the years, I thought it was best I made sure you actually did it.”

Gob rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

Michael wanted to protest that immediately, but he saw Gob’s hands shaking as he reached for his carton of cigarettes. His face softened a little; he knew that, just like Gob would never admit to being terrified of needles, he’d never admit how truly scared he got for HIV tests. Michael managed to bite his tongue.

Well, he bit his tongue on _that_ point.

“You know, I really wish you didn’t smoke,” Michael said as Gob lit up his cigarette.

“Yeah, and I wish my little brother didn’t lecture me every five seconds, but we can’t always get what we want.”

Michael fought off the urge to make some sarcastic retort back. “At least open up the window.”

Once they got checked in at the clinic, Gob reeking of the several cigarettes he had smoked in nervousness, it didn’t take long for Gob to get called back. He stood up and froze for a moment. He looked back down at Michael helplessly and, with a nod, Michael stood up wordlessly and went back with him. He didn’t know if that was technically allowed, but they were related, so it was okay, right?

If it was against the rules, the nurse didn’t seem to care.

They waited in one of the rooms mostly in silence for someone to come back. It had only been a minute or so before Gob took out his cigarette pack again.

“Gob, you can’t smoke in a doctor’s office,” Michael told him.

“Why not?”

“It’s _illegal_ ,” Michael said. Well, he was pretty sure it was; it made common sense for it to be. Gob grumbled but put his pack away. He still pulled out his lighter and kept turning it on and off, watching the flame closely.

Thankfully, a nurse finally came in and Gob put his lighter away as she explained the ways they could test him, as if Gob hadn’t heard them all before. Gob was too busy rolling up the sleeve on his right arm to really pay attention to what she was saying. He already knew that was the best arm to use for testing purposes, since his vein was more prominent there.

“Oh, no, we don’t need to take blood from your arm,” the nurse said as she realized what Gob was doing. “We can just—”

“I’m a pianist; I’m not doing a finger prick,” Gob said immediately.

“It…it won’t damage your fingers—"

“And they told Julie Andrews the surgery wouldn’t ruin her voice,” Gob said with a scoff that made Michael roll his eyes. “Look, I want the rapid test, but take the blood out of my arm, okay?”

“But really—”

“I got my first test in 1987; I know what I’m doing.”

“I was going to say that we have a rapid results oral swab test here,” she snapped. Gob finally stopped talking and she explained the procedure to him, which mostly consisted of holding a swab between his cheek and teeth for a few minutes. It was a test that had existed for a while that now, but the rapid results option on it was new. And if there was a way to get the same results without having to see a needle…

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Gob said, rolling his sleeve back down. “I might as well since keeping things in my mouth for a few minutes is the whole reason I’m here,” he joked.

Neither Michael or the nurse appreciated the joke, but, whatever, they just didn’t have a good sense of humor. Unlike Gob. Gob totally had a sense of humor about this whole thing.

Well, he did until he finished the test. But then the nurse pulled the swab out of his mouth and explained that they’d have the results in about twenty minutes and, as soon as she left the room, Gob felt that anxious feeling come back even stronger than before. This was why he hated the tests; the waiting, the gnawing anxiety, the fact that he had to sit in silence…Michael wasn’t really helping with the last one.

Time seemed to tick by even slower than usual as Gob and Michael sat in silence. Gob nervously tapped his fingers on his knees in an attempt to practice one of his pieces, but his eyes kept darting back to the clock. Michael kept looking at his brother and then at the clock as well, unsure of what to do.

Despite constantly reminding Gob to get tested twice a year, Michael had never actually been with him to a test. After all, Gob had lived on the other side of the continent for most of those tests, and when they had lived together, Gob had snuck out to do the tests alone. But Gob hadn’t gone for a while and Michael wanted to make sure he did. And he wanted to support him, too; he was sure doing this alone had to be scary.

Michael had read up on what the testing process was like beforehand and he thought he was ready for the whole thing. He had been prepared for the anxious chain-smoking Gob always did before tests, even if he still frowned on it. He had been prepared for Gob’s attempt at making jokes to try to convince himself it was all fine, even if Michael didn’t appreciate them. He had been prepared to let his brother squeeze his hand so hard it hurt during the blood test, since he knew Gob was terrified of needles. Michael had prepared for the test in every way, except for the wait. He hadn’t expected to have to just sit for half an hour. He felt rather helpless and useless, two things he hated feeling more than anything.

He also hadn’t prepared to be reminded of waiting in other doctors’ offices for different test results.

“I hate the waiting,” Gob muttered after about ten minutes, crossing his arms and laying back in the patient’s chair.

“Yeah,” Michael said. “At least it’s not a week or something.” Gob nodded but didn’t say anything in response. “Did you really get your first test back in 1987?”

Gob nodded again, but he spoke that time. “Yeah, I didn’t really know how this stuff worked and I thought I might’ve somehow gotten it from Seth at camp. It’s kinda funny now.” Of course, he didn’t feel much like laughing in the moment. “That one was a week-long wait. Longest week of my life.”

“That must’ve been scary,” Michael said, unsure what else to say. 

“No shit,” Gob said with a snort. He didn’t have anyone to talk to about that one, either, which made it all the more frightening.

But, even when he did have people to talk to about it, he normally didn’t. He didn’t like discussing it or thinking about it or _anything_ having to do with it. It was half of why he he'd “forget” to get tested so many times until Michael reminded him.

“…It never gets easier,” Gob finally whispered, more to himself than to Michael, his fingers fidgeting nervously yet again.

“At least you’re getting it done before you sleep with Gary,” Michael said. “Though, frankly, I’m still amazed you haven’t slept with him yet, seeing as it’s been three months.”

Gob rolled his eyes. “Don’t be homophobic, _Michael_ ; I can keep it in my pants,” Gob mumbled. “Besides, we weren’t even official until, like, last month. And he wants to take things slow, seeing as you're his boss.”

That was true. Though they had kissed back in August, between Gob’s demanding schedule—the orchestra, piano lessons, some publicity things—and Gary’s work schedule—including lunch breaks that were much shorter than the one’s Michael got—finding times they could actually go on dates was hard at first. And then they had to actually go on a few dates before they could be official. And, okay, it wasn’t like they hadn’t gotten each other off, it just was a hands only sort of situation. You know, penetration-free.

So, Gob had finally found himself in that three-month window of being mostly sexually inactive—he couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened, honestly—and when he made the mistake of telling Michael and Lindsay that, they both made him get an appointment to get tested.

“Besides,” Gob said, attempting to make a joke, “It’s not like you’ve moved any faster with any of your girlfriends.”

Michael rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, looking at the clock again.

They were silent for a few more minutes again until Michael finally declared, “I really hate doctors’ offices.” Gob looked over at his little brother and frowned; he didn’t like the look on his face. “…This one looks a lot like Tracey’s doctor’s office.”

Gob’s stomach sank; he hadn’t even thought of that. Suddenly Michael's insisted on being "safe" made a lot more sense. Michael had always worried about that, but Gob only just then realized how much that had increased since Tracey's cancer diagnosis and death.

Shit.

Gob really didn’t know what he could say in response to that. Thankfully, Michael didn’t seem to be looking for a response, anyways.

They remained silent, the tension fairly thick in the air. Eventually, Gob pulled out his lighter again, flicking it on and off, on and off…Michael just watched his brother play with the flames, unable to say anything else.

Finally, the nurse came in again and told them the results. Negative. That was a good thing. They both let out sighs of relief before being ushered out of the room. It was all rather anticlimactic, but Gob supposed that was better than getting actual climactic news at something like that.

Soon enough they were back in the car. Gob turned on the radio to one of his favorite stations, smiling as he nodded his head to the beat. Michael, however, still looked rather stone-faced and grim.

“Lighten up, Michael,” Gob teased, lightly pushing Michael’s shoulder.

“Lighten up? Gob, we just left an HIV testing center and we're going to a meeting with our bounty hunter about our fugitive father’s disappearance. It's not a light day all around.”

“Yeah, but that bounty hunter is hot,” Gob pointed out. Michael rolled his eyes and stopped at a traffic light. “What? Just because I’m taken doesn’t mean I can’t notice that. But, hey, even if I wasn’t taken, Lindsay called dibs on him, and I respect our dibs system.”

While he rolled his eyes again, Michael couldn’t help but laugh a little. “God, I don’t know if the idea of you two both trying to get the same guy is hilarious or terrifying.”

“Well, it was funny when she’d forget she was married and try to get action in gay bars, but it was also really annoying. There’s a reason I don’t trust her as my wing woman,” Gob said with a slight laugh. Michael laughed quietly again, and Gob relaxed back in his seat; seeing his brother smiling was a lot better than the look he had sported throughout the whole wait for the results.

“By the way,” Gob added, “You’re not coming to another one of those tests again.”

Michael nodded as the light turned green. “Fair.”

* * *

So, apparently, Gob’s father was dead.

George had been killed by a Mexican prison guard, at least according to Michael’s bounty hunter.

And Gob felt…well, he felt nothing. At least at first. He spent a few minutes just trying to process the fact that his dad was dead while everyone around him got frenzied over the will and the company and whether they could have a wake without a body, everyone claiming that they didn't know what they were saying. 

It was only when Buster came in that the news finally sunk in. The corners of Gob's lips twitched up and he felt a warmth pass through his body. He'd never have to deal with his father again. He'd never have to hear one of his "jokes" or deal with him ignoring him so much he wouldn't so much as pass him mashed potatoes at Christmas dinner or feel his glare on him for just  _talking_ to a guy.

Gob was really, truly, completely  _free_.

"Are you guys planning a party?" Buster asked.

Gob laughed and Buster looked at him expectedly. “We sure are, buddy,” Gob said. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked towards the door Buster was standing in. He clapped his hand on Buster's shoulder and said, “We’ve got _lots_ of things to celebrate.”

With that, Gob left with a smile on his face and a swing in his step. First no AIDS, now no father? Michael was wrong; this was as light as days got.

“…I don’t think Gob knows what he’s saying,” Michael said, though he wasn’t quite sure he believed himself.

* * *

Gob had realized long ago that his siblings had grown up with a different dad than him. So, of course, it made sense that Lindsay would be hysterical, which she still was when Gob came over to the model home to give Maeby her piano lesson the next day.

Michael, however, was acting oddly robotic for someone who had just lost their father, but, hey, that was Michael for you. Gob could count the number of times he had seen Michael cry on one hand, and that included his toddler years. Still, despite how complicated their relationship was, he figured Michael still would’ve felt _some_ level of sadness.

“I just can’t believe he’s _gone_ ,” Lindsay said as Gob entered the kitchen after Maeby’s lesson. Gob had gotten there over an hour ago and she had been talking about their dad with Michael then as well. Gob rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as he made himself a drink.

“There are so many things I’ll never get to ask him,” Lindsay continued, fighting back tears.

“I know,” Michael said as sympathetically as he could, given the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Gob agreed with a fake sigh, causing both of them to look over at him. “I really wish I could just ask him so many things. Like…which composer was his least favorite?” Lindsay and Michael both gave him a confused look, so he explained, “Because I would play fucking Philip Glass at his funeral if it meant it would piss him off.”

“ _Gob!_ ” Michael and Lindsay chastised him at once.

“What? I meant what I said at the penthouse.”

“I figured you were just in shock,” Michael said. 

"It's not like _you're_ that devastated, you _robot_ ," Gob pointed out.

"You know that Michael keeps his feelings inside and you don't," Lindsay sighed. “And I know you and dad had a… _complicated_ relationship—”

“ _Michael’s_ relationship with dad was complicated. And yours was…like most father-daughter relationships, I guess. And Buster’s was…well, I don’t know.” He shrugged and continued, “ _Ours_ wasn’t complicated. He hated me, and I hated him. And now he’s dead, so I should be happy. And I am.”

“Gob…” Lindsay said softly, “You don’t hate him.”

“I do,” Gob said simply. Before anyone could interrupt him again, Gob said, “Just let it go, okay? I’m in a _really_ good place right now. Work’s great; my studio’s great…”

“You’ve got a cute new boyfriend,” Lindsay pointed out.

Gob grinned and nodded, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Yeah. That’s my favorite part, too.” His smile was so infectious, even Lindsay couldn’t help but smile back despite herself.

But Michael was still business as usual. “Do you _really_ want to play for the wake?”

“Why not? You have my old piano and it’s nice enough,” Gob said with a shrug.

“What would you play?” Michael asked.

“Well it’s really hard to know what to do since, as I said, I don’t know his least favorite composer,” Gob said. “I mean, he probably hated Liszt just because he knew how much I love him. Liszt did a piano transcription of _Danse Macabre_ , so that’d work—”

“Gob, you don’t have to play, you know.”

Gob looked at his brother, “Would you rather have me _talk_ about him?”

Lindsay and Michael shared a look. “…Okay, you should play something.”

"Just don't be macabre about it."

Frowning, Gob asked, "Then what should I even play? He doesn't deserve an  _Ave Maria_ or anything."

“Oh! There was one piece you played when you were younger—the one from that first piano competition you did?” Lindsay suddenly said. “It was really pretty, but you practiced it for _hours_ and it drove of us all _crazy_. You know, the one that made dad finally put doors in the entryway of the living room?”

“Oh, yeah, Chopin’s 'Prelude in D-flat major',” Gob said. “ _The Raindrop Prelude_ —because the constant eighth notes—”

“Sound like raindrops falling,” Lindsay and Michael said at the same time. Gob had told them that fact a _lot_  when he was working on it for the first time.

“Well, I _can_ pull out a Chopin prelude without much practice,” he reasoned. “And it’s not too bad for a funeral. I'll do it." With a laugh, he added, "And I _think_ that competition was the first time he said I had ‘delicate’ fingers, so it's a fitting memory of him.” 

"He was such a good dad," Lindsay sobbed. 

* * *

Once John Beard reported on George Bluth’s death, a few people stopped by Gob’s office at the orchestra to give them his condolences. Despite wanting to smile and laugh and tell them there was nothing to be sorry about, Gob managed to thank them for their kind words while remaining silent on all thoughts about how he knew his dad was burning in hell.

Eventually Gob met up with Tony at the director’s office; the three of them had a meeting to discuss some of the outreach to the public schools they’d be doing that season as part of the residency, since they had a lot more planned than last year. Honestly, Gob was just relieved to finally see Tony, since he, strangely, hadn’t stopped by his office yet that day. He normally had stopped by at that point in the day.

“So…your dad died,” Tony said after Jason’s assistant led them into Jason’s empty office.

“Apparently,” Gob said back as he sat down in one of the chairs in front of Jason’s desk.

Tony sat next to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gob said simply. “I’m doing alright.”

Tony nodded. “I guessed you guys didn’t get along. You know, since the whole public fist fight thing.”

“Yeah. You could say that.” Gob laughed quietly and rolled his eyes. “…I guess I feel kinda bad that my sister’s all bent out of shape over it, but I’m feeling great.” Gob looked at Tony and asked, “You don’t think I’m some sort of psycho for not caring, right?”

For just a moment, Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “…I know we never really talked about it, but he punched you first that day, didn’t he?” Gob nodded and Tony nodded back. “Yeah, I figured if you weren’t willing to keep playing softball in case you broke your wrist again, you probably wouldn’t punch someone unprovoked.” At Gob’s surprised look, Tony smiled and said, “What? I listen and remember things.”

Gob laughed at that, but Tony gave him a sympathetic look. “So, if there’s a guy who would do that to his own son, no matter what his age, you don’t have to tell me any other details or anything for me to know he’s a bastard. You’re definitely not crazy for not being upset.” 

A wave of relief washed over Gob. “Thanks,” he said. “No one else seems to think that. The twins think I must be upset deep down or something.”

“Twins?”

“Oh, did I not tell you that Michael and Lindsay are twins?” After a moment, Gob asked, “You’ve met Lindsay, right?”

“Yeah. Briefly,” Tony said, a weird look on his face.

“Did she get flirty with you?” Tony nodded and Gob sighed. “She’s trying this ‘open marriage’ thing. It’s weird. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” After a beat, Tony said, “I never would’ve guessed she was Michael’s twin. They don’t seem that similar.”

“Well, Michael’s not really like anyone in the family,” Gob said at first. “But you’re right; Lindsay even had this major growth spurt when we were kids that made her, like, the same size as me. I think people really thought _we_ were twins when we’d go out in public.” He shrugged and added, “ _We’re_ also a lot more alike than she is to Michael. We even normally have the same type.”

Tony nodded at first, but then he did a double take as what Gob said sunk in. He had the same “type” as his sister? And his sister hit on him? Did that mean—

“Sorry I’m late,” Jason said as he entered his office. “And I’m sorry to hear about your father, Gob,” he added once he sat down at his desk. Ever since Tony started using Gob instead of George, everyone else started to slowly pick up on it. Gob couldn’t say he hated it.

“Thanks,” Gob said, leaving it at that so they could get the meeting over with.

* * *

As far as wakes went, Gob thought the one they held for their dad was pretty standard. People gave speeches, including Lindsay in her _SLUT_ shirt, which was pretty confusing, but that was really the only thing out of the ordinary.

Finally, after a weirdly short speech, Michael announced that Gob would be playing something. Gob swore he could hear someone snorting, which just emboldened him even further. 

After taking a moment to center himself, Gob took a deep breath and put his fingers on the keys. He really _did_ love [this piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_6APTb3RNQ); it was possibly his favorite of Chopin’s preludes, even if it was a cliché to say so. He loved the beautiful melody at the beginning and the end, he loved the constant rain motif, he loved all of it.

As he kept playing, the piece slowly grew from the happy, sweet melody to the [minor section](https://youtu.be/J_6APTb3RNQ?t=94), the volume building as Gob started basically pounding on the keys. As he pounded out the raindrop motif, a thought seemed to be pounding his brain at all, an emotion he kept trying to push away, or at least push into the keys and outside of him, somewhere where he wouldn't have to think of it. He didn't want to feel it, he didn't want to feel any remorse or grief or anything, not for the man he swore he  _hated_. Not after all this time.

He took a moment once he finished the piece, both for the sake of the beauty of the piece and for his own sake. After a slightly longer time than usual, Gob took slowly lifted off the final, major chord. As everyone started to clap politely, Gob discreetly wiped under his eyes before turning around and bowing his head in thanks.

After that, Gob followed everyone outside, but instead of going to where they were planting a headstone, Gob sat in one of the patio chairs, taking a moment to himself.

Well, a lot of a moments. Or a really long moment. However you classified it, Gob kept sitting out there, even when everyone else went back into the house and the guests left.

Finally, Gob lit a cigarette, the last of his pack, and watched the sun start to set.

“I really wish you didn’t smoke.”

Gob looked over his shoulder at his brother and couldn’t stop himself from snorting quietly. “Yeah…I know.”

Michael quietly went over and sat on one of the patio chairs next to Gob. “You played well,” Michael said. After Gob nodded in thanks, Michael asked, “You feeling okay?”

“Never better,” Gob said. Michael gave him a look but stayed silent. He knew his brother would talk eventually.

And Michael knew his brother well.

"We never got along, even before he knew that all of his jokes were true,” Gob said quietly. "I don't know if we would've even if he didn't think I was gay."

“You know that you're allowed to be sad, Gob, even if he was a dick to you,” Michael said.

“Yeah…” Gob sighed quietly and took a long drag of his cigarette, looking towards the setting sun. “…It just sucks knowing that I never changed his mind.”

Gob shook his head at himself. “I always said I didn’t, but there was a part of me that really thought that he’d get over it or he’d realize he’d been an asshole my whole life. He wouldn’t apologize, because he never felt sorry for anything, but maybe he’d at least stop being such a dick about something I can't change. Or not roll his eyes when I played. Or at least acknowledge I was _there_. He said more to me on that fucking boat than he said to me in fourteen years.” He sighed and put out his cigarette on the ash tray on the patio table. “It’s stupid, I know, since he never changed his mind on anything, even on his fucking toothpaste. But…” Gob shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Gob,” Michael said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Gob nodded, though Michael really had nothing to be sorry for.

The two of them looked up at the sunset for a small silence. It was actually kind of nice.

Until Michael spoke again.

“…If it makes you feel any better, dad’s still alive.”

Gob kept looking at the sunset, his jaw tightening.

“…I hate that fucking son of a _bitch_.”

* * *

When Gob stopped by the Bluth Company for his weekly lunch with Michael, he was, of course, not surprised to find out that the pre-lunch meeting was running late. He was disappointed, however, to find out that Gary wasn’t having lunch yet, either.

So, since Michael was in the conference room, Gob decided to wait in Michael’s office for him. His chair was much more comfortable than the chairs in the kitchen. It also spun around and everything.

Gob did just that, looking around the room and spinning, only stopping when he heard the door open.

“Mr. Bluth, I—” Gob looked up to find Gary there. Gary stopped and smiled when he realized it was his boyfriend and not his boss. “She just told me ‘Mr. Bluth’ was in here, she didn’t specify…” He smiled as the door closed behind him and said, “You look pretty comfy in that chair.”

“I _am_ pretty comfy, if you need a place to sit,” Gob said, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“…I’m supposed to be working,” Gary said, though he took a few steps closer.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Gob said with a grin.

After a moment, Gary grinned back and threw whatever papers he had been planning on showing Michael on the desk. He walked around and made himself comfortable in Gob’s lap, sitting at a slight angle so he could still see Gob’s face.

“You’re right; you _are_ comfy,” Gary said.

“I’d never lie about that.”

Gary laughed softly before asking, “So, is this a preview of what’s going to happen during our date tonight?”

“…It can be. If you want it to be,” Gob said, hoping against all hope he didn’t sound nearly as desperate to Gary as he did to himself.

“Seeing as it’d be our last chance before I go home for Thanksgiving, yeah, I’d like that,” Gary replied.

“Me, too,” Gob whispered. “If you want another preview…” Gob smoothly pressed his lips to Gary’s, fighting back a smile at how eagerly Gary kissed him back.

Gob had just started to deepen the kiss when the door opened. Gary bolted out of his lap immediately and Gob grabbed onto the desk to make sure the chair didn’t fall back from the sudden movement. "Michael," Gob said right as Gary said, "Mr. Bluth."

Though he did look a little awkward, Michael merely said, "It's okay; it's nothing I haven't seen before. It's actually pretty mild compared to things I saw when we lived together." 

Gary decided to ignore that and grabbed the papers he had put on the desk. "These are the minutes from yesterday's meeting with the possible investors." Michael took them and thanked him before Gary started to leave.

"See you tonight!" Gob told Gary. Gary repeated the sentiment and, when Michael wasn't looking, sent him a wink before leaving the room, making Gob grin stupidly wide.

Seeing Michael's frown, Gob cut him off from whatever lecture he had planned by saying, "Let's go eat. Tony and I have a demonstration for some kids today, so I need to get going."

That managed to put off the lecture until they got in the elevator. Once the doors closed, Michael said, "You know I'm happy that you're in a relationship and you seem very happy with Gary. But could you at least wait to do that stuff outside office hours?"

"It was two minutes _max_ ," Gob said. "Don't be so _homophobic_ , Mi—"

"Oh, shut up," Michael said with a roll of his eyes while Gob grinned.

* * *

“So, these are Kindergarteners, right?” Gob asked.

“Yeah,” Tony said as they walked into the elementary school building. “So, we’ve got to keep the answers very kid-friendly.”

Gob nodded. “Got it. None of that stuff about how doing music got me laid.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, probably a little inappropriate for five-year-olds.”

“What are you playing for them?” Gob asked.

“One of the Paganini caprices and some Bach,” Tony said with a shrug. “Standards. Kids love that flashy stuff. And what Liszt are you doing?”

Gob laughed. “For your information, I’m playing Beethoven's Piano Sonata number 14 in C-sharp minor, better known as ‘[Moonlight Sonata](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Tr0otuiQuU)’, since I know kids will love to hear something they recognize.” Tony gave him a look and Gob admitted, “And I’m playing ‘[Dance of the Gnomes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4H0VObXXA7U)' by Liszt, _yes_.”

“Oh, that was your encore from the first concert this season, right? That’s a good one. Very flashy. They’ll love it,” Tony said.

"Yeah, well, kids tend to love me," Gob said with a simple shrug. He'd never wanted them, but he had always liked and been good at entertaining his niece and nephew when they were younger.

Once the two of them checked in at the front office, they were led down to the music room. The room was empty at the moment, but they were told the teacher would be there soon enough, so they should just get themselves ready.

Gob immediately went to the piano and adjusted the bench to his height and practiced a few passages while Tony got out his violin and started to tune. It was a routine they were used to after doing a few of these the year before. Gob actually really loved doing these presentations. The kids normally loved him, and he liked teaching kids that classical music could be cool, normally by playing something super-fast like his Liszt piece or something else cool. He liked answering their questions about playing piano and his favorite composers and why he started to play. He had never wanted kids, but he always enjoyed talking to them about this stuff, since they could get so excited like he did as a kid. Gob liked to think he was inspiring at least one kid every time he visited a school.

And he had to admit that he loved how easily impressed they got. He _did_ have an ego after all.

After a couple of minutes, the door opened and the music teacher entered the room. She looked vaguely familiar…did he know her? Maybe they worked with her last year, too?

“Hi,” Tony said, walking over to her and holding out his hand. Gob got up and followed him as they shook hands. “I’m Tony Wonder. You’re the music teacher, right?”

“Yes,” she said, letting go of Tony’s hand. She looked over at Gob as he offered his hand, but she cut him off before he could introduce himself. “And it really _is_ Gob Bluth. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Gob and Tony looked at each other and then back at her. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him, making Gob drop his hand. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” Gob said, still trying to figure out who she was.

“We normally tell the kids his name is George,” Tony said, trying to cover for his friend. “You know, professional name and all. I’m sure you understand, Miss Holt.”

Huh. Where did he know that name?

“You can call me Eve,” she told Tony. A wave of memories suddenly hit Gob, memories of awkward flirting, a drunken prom night, and a rather sudden break-up the following Monday as he accepted that he really was gay. She looked back over at Gob with an unreadable look on her face and Gob felt his stomach drop.

_…Fuck._

* * *

Despite the shock of realizing that the teacher he was demonstrating for was his last attempt at heterosexuality, the class went well. The kids loved the pieces Tony and Gob played, they asked great questions, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

They played and answered questions for the last two classes and once they finished, Tony started to pack up his violin and Gob sat there awkwardly. What was he supposed to say to his ex-girlfriend? He didn’t know. He could hear kids running outside in the hallway, eager to get out for the weekend, and he desperately wished he was one of them right then.Hey, he and Tony had driven separately, he could easily just leave right then. He had a date, after all, a date with a _man_ , and it had been nearly twenty years since he and Eve had dated. She had to be over it, right? But something was telling him to stay, and he wasn't sure he could move even if he wanted to at the moment.

Thankfully, Tony managed to break the silence for them.  

“Those were a great group of kids,” Tony said cheerfully. “Especially for a Friday afternoon.”

“Yeah, we have a great group of Kindergarteners this year,” Eve agreed.

“I can’t wait to see what the other grades are like.”

Gob whipped his head over to him. “We’re playing here again?”

“Did you not look at the schedule?” Tony asked him.

“I have the days marked, I just didn’t realize we had more than one here,” Gob replied.

Eve snorted. “Gob’s never been great at details. We were in _Jesus Christ Superstar_ together in high school and he thought that the Mary I played was Jesus’ mother.”

“Well, wasn’t Jesus’ mother named Mary?”

“It was a different Mary,” Eve said with a roll of her eyes, "as I tried to tell you  _several_ times."

“…Okay, that’s just confusing,” Gob said, shaking his head. 

Tony tried to laugh, but there was definitely some weird tension in the room, tension that he did not like. And tension that he definitely was not a part of. “…Well, I should get going,” Tony said. “I’ll see you soon.”

He left so fast he seemed to just disappear out of thin air. Gob looked at the door he left from and then back at Eve. “Well, I guess I should go, too—”

“Wait,” Eve said as Gob stood up. “Since you _are_ going to be here multiple times, we need to talk.”

Gob looked at the door and considered making a run for it. But since he really couldn’t avoid seeing her again, he knew running wasn’t going to do any good. Not this time. He sighed silently and leaned against the piano. “Okay,” he said.

Eve took a deep breath. “When you broke up with me, it really hurt—”

"You don’t want to get back together or anything, do you?” Gob asked. Eve raised her eyebrows and he said, “Because I’m really not interested. I mean, no offense or anything, I just…” 

Gob sighed as Eve raised an eyebrow at him. He took a few steps closer to her and said, “This might shock you, I know, but…” Gob took a deep breath and looked into Eve’s eyes, “I’m gay.”

Eve stared back for a moment. “ _Duh_.”

“What do you mean _duh_?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “We got together during a _musical_ , you barely kissed me, you only started calling me your girlfriend when your dad was there, and we only had sex once _and_ it took you a while to get hard when we did—oh, and you _cried_ after.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t cry after…” Gob rubbed a hand on the back of his neck nervously.

“I had heard that you cried afterwards from two other girls, but I assumed they were just trying to spread some bad rumor about you. But, well, they weren’t.” Eve started to stack some sheet music and she said, “I didn’t understand at the time, but sometimes I’d think about it and…well, I put the pieces together myself.” She snorted and added, "Plus, I'm friends with other musicians and music teachers in the area, you know. Like Derrick? He swore me to secrecy about how he was 'nailing'  _the_ George Bluth II." 

Gob wasn’t sure what to say, but apparently Eve had that covered. “I don’t really like that I was used as some way to help figure out your sexuality or whatever, but…” She rolled her eyes a little and, with her face a little softer, said, “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you, either. You know, to come to terms with that. And I guess I don’t really know how much you knew at the time.”

They were both quiet for some time. Gob finally quietly replied, “I’m sorry that I did… _that_. It…yeah, it wasn’t an easy thing for me to accept. You know, being gay in the 80s wasn't that much fun…well, not in Newport Beach.” After a moment, he smiled and said, “At least it was only one time. Couldn’t have done _that_ much damage, huh?” Gob placed his hands under his jacket and on his belt and Eve took a deep breath. She looked like she was about to say something when someone came through the door.

“Hey,” the guy said as he walked over to Eve.

“Steve,” she said, forcing on a smile as she greeted him with a hug. “Did practice end early?”

“Well, you certainly moved on from me, huh?” Gob joked. Eve looked confused and he said, “I mean, he kinda looks like me, and I guess he’s around the age I was when we met, but good on you, I guess.”

“What?” Steve asked, looking between the two of them.

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend,” Eve said, honestly concerned that Gob thought that. “Steve’s my _son_.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Gob said. Weird. He couldn’t imagine having a kid, especially one so old.

“Wait, you used to date my mom?” Steve asked. He laughed. “Awesome!” He introduced himself by saying, “Steve Holt!” It reminded Gob of when he first met Eve.

“Gob Bluth,” Gob said with a nod. “Nice to meet you. Any son of Eve’s is a son of mine—no, that’s not right…friend of mine? That sounds right, right?” Steve nodded.

Eve had a pained expression on her face. “Steve, honey? Could you wait outside for me?” Steve nodded and left after another exclamation of his name. Gob watched him leave and then turned back to Eve.

“Cool kid,” Gob said. While he was smiling a little, Eve had a nervous look on her face.

“I need to tell you something…”

* * *

Gob wasn’t good at subtly outside of music. He could bring nuance into any piece, even into works by Saint-Saëns who, let's face it, was as flashy as Liszt without the refinement, but outside of that? No, Gob wasn’t good at beating around the bush.

So, when he got to the model home after that demonstration and found Michael and Lindsay in the kitchen he stood there for a moment, and then announced, “So, I’m a father, apparently.”

The two of them looked up at him slowly. “What?”

“I have a kid,” Gob said. 

“…But you’re gay,” Lindsay said.

“Don’t be _homophobic_ , Lindsay; a gay man can knock up a woman and find out nineteen years later just as much as any straight man could." Gob nodded before, with fake cheerfulness, saying, “I’m gonna make myself a drink.”

Gob had finished pouring himself a vodka on the rocks—whiskey didn’t seem like the right choice at the moment—when Lindsay and Michael finally followed him into the living room. He raised his glass to them and then had a large gulp before sitting down on the couch. They both raised their eyebrows at Gob’s drink of choice and sat down next to him.

“Want to walk us through this now?”

Gob did just that, actually getting up to walk around the living room, pacing in a circle as he explained how Eve was the teacher at his demonstration that day. He explained how the kid definitely  _did_ look like him, how Eve had told him, how he had bolted from the room, and how he knew he'd have to see her several more times throughout the season, meaning he couldn't just avoid her forever, either.

“Wow,” Lindsay said.

“I always knew something like this was going to happen,” Michael said with a shake of his head.

"Really? You  _really_ thought I was gonna knock up some girl and only find out twenty years later?" Gob asked testily. 

"No, I meant I thought back then that you'd get a girl pregnant," Michael said. "You kept sleeping around with girls and, for all I knew, you never wore a condom."

Gob's eyes narrowed. "I  _did_! I wasn't  _that_ dumb. We just didn't that night, because she said she didn't believe in them or something, I don't know! I was drunk! And it's awful rich coming from the guy who knocked up his fiancée when he was  _twenty_."

"Hey, we were in love and we had an accident," Michael replied heatedly. "You were a drunk Prom King sleeping with a girl you didn't even like."

"I wanted to believe I could be straight, okay?" Gob said. "You don't think I didn't hope that Seth was a fluke? Or that I was trying to forget about Lindsay fucking a guy I thought was hot? That I wasn't  _freaked out_ by realizing I thought guys were hot?"

Michael gave Gob a sympathetic look; okay, he obviously didn't know how hard that was personally, but it did seem like a struggle.

"Tommy  _was_ hot," Lindsay mused to herself. "Do you think he's still single?" 

Choosing to ignore his sister, Gob continued, "And, I don't know, I thought if Steven Carrington could be sort of straight, why couldn't I?"

"Who?"

Gob rolled his eyes. "The gay son of Blake Carrington?" They still gave him blank looks and he sighed, "Blake was, like, the lead dude on  _Dynasty_ , come on!" The twins rolled their eyes at the mention of  _Dynasty_ , but Gob continued, "Blake was an asshole tycoon with a gay son he hated. I _might_  have related to him a lot, even before I knew I was gay." Gob brought a palm to his forehead and groaned. "And he even knocked up Sammy Jo in the process, god  _damn_ it, how did I  _not_ see that coming?"

As Gob poured himself another drink, Michael asked, "So, when are you going to talk to him?"

"Steven Carrington? He's fictional, Mikey, did you not get that?" Gob snorted.

Michael rolled his eyes again. "I mean your son. You're going to talk to him, right?"

"Are you kidding?" Gob asked. "Why should I talk to him?"

"Because you're his  _father_!" Michael exclaimed. "He deserves to know that."

"Why should he? Fathers aren't that great," Gob muttered. "And I'm not ready to be one. You know I never wanted to be one, either." 

"Yeah, well you are one, so you have to face it," Michael said simply. 

Gob rolled his eyes. "What am I supposed to say? 'I know we just met, Steve Holt—'"

"Steve Holt?" The adults whipped their heads around to find George Michael and Maeby in the doorway. George Michael continued, "You mean that moron jock?"

Surprisingly, Gob felt a blaze of  _fury_ inside of him at someone calling his son a moron. He clenched his free fist and almost launched himself at George Michael, but, thankfully, Michael managed to catch him.

"He's  _not_ a moron!" Maeby said, lightly hitting her cousin's arm, Gob nodding in approval at her actions. "He's a really sweet guy. He's not the  _smartest_ , but he's sensitive and kind—and he's an actor, too, not just a jock.  _And_ he's the president of student council."

"Yeah, and he has been for three years. Because he  _still_ hasn't graduated," George Michael said.

Maeby rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She looked over at her uncle and asked, "Why were you talking about him?"

Gob opened his mouth, but he soon closed it since he didn't know how to answer. Thankfully, his phone started to blare out a [synthesized version of "Liebestraum No. 3" by Liszt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xJDozUYJcw), so he didn't have to come up with some fake answer.

"You really need a different ringtone," Michael said, but Gob ignored him. That was his special ringtone for Gary and he had  _completely_ forgotten about their date.  _Shit_.

Still, Gob was glad for the distraction and flipped open his phone. "Hey, Gary—yeah, no, I'm sorry, I had to swing by Michael's, I didn't think it would take this long. I'll be there ASAP." 

He stepped a bit away from his family, standing next to one of the A/C vents. He whispered, "You packed a bag, right?" When Gary confirmed he had, Gob smirked and quietly said, "I hope you didn't bother with pajamas." Gob heard a groan and immediately yelled over at Michael, "Don't be homophobic,  _Michael_!" Michael looked confused, but, after a second, he glared at the A/C vent. Gob, of course, was too busy saying goodbye to his boyfriend to notice any of that, though.

"See you soon. Bye."

Gob hung up the phone and put down his glass. "Well, I have a date, so I need to go."

Michael said, "Then we'll finish talking about this later."

"Talking about what?" Maeby asked.

"Nothing," Gob said. He gave Michael and Lindsay a look; they definitely had no right to tell Maeby or George Michael about Steve Holt, not when he had barely processed it. They both seemed to understand that and they nodded in agreement.

Michael still walked Gob to the door and quietly said, “You know who you should talk to about all of this."

Gob frowned, knowing exactly who Michael meant. He wanted to argue that it would be a very sensitive subject to broach with said person, but, under Michael’s steady gaze, Gob finally sighed. “I know.”

* * *

Gob's date with Gary did provide a nice distraction. Sex was always a nice distraction, and even if it was a little awkward—Gob hadn't topped in a while, okay?—it was nice to get out of his head. He never liked being inside his head. Ever. And Gary made him breakfast and stayed for a bit while he practiced. It was…nice. Very nice.

But as soon as Gary left, leaving Gob alone with his thoughts, Gob started to think about it all again. He couldn't  _stop_ himself from thinking about it. It was like that fucking raindrop prelude all over again; he tried getting his thoughts out by playing loudly, by practicing on end, but his thoughts wouldn't go into the keys like they did with most of his other thoughts and feelings and emotions. These were much more complicated emotions than when he was younger and just trying to understand why his dad preferred Michael to him. He needed to talk to someone. Someone who knew him. Someone who knew what he was feeling and what he was going through.

It was late when Gob dialed the number he knew he needed to call. He had been putting it off as long as possible, but, after a few shots and a few cigarettes, he finally pressed call and cradled the phone against his ear.

“Hello?” a gruff voice answered. Gob held back a sigh; of course _he’d_ be the one to pick up.

“Heeeeey, Christopher,” Gob said as casually as possible. “How’s it goin’?”

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” he mumbled. Gob heard the faint rumblings of Christopher saying _It’s Gob_ , and a small groan before someone else took the phone.

“Jesus—it’s three in the morning, California,” Seth said.

“But time zones are hard.”

“You can’t use that excuse anymore; both of us are in California.”

“You haven’t been _in_ California since, like, 1998,” Gob pointed out. Even Seth had to laugh at that; they might have been broken up by then, but they still hooked up when they saw each other. Gob might have even conveniently broken up with some less than serious boyfriends when he knew they’d be in the same area.

Well, until _Christopher_ entered the picture.

“If this is another call about _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_ , I’m literally going to go down to Newport Beach and choke you myself.”

“Kinky,” Gob said. “But, no, it’s not about that. It’s something really important.” Even without saying anything, Gob could tell Seth was doubtful. “Really serious. Michael even said I should call you.”

There was a pause and then a small sigh. Gob knew that would convince him. “Give me a second,” Seth said. After all the years of being with Seth, Gob could easily picture him slipping on his glasses and putting on his slippers as he got out of bed with a groan. Gob chewed on his lip as he waited for Seth to tell him to continue.

“Okay, California, to what do I owe this three AM call?”

“Okay…” Gob took a deep breath. “Remember how after you and camp and everything, how I kinda…I kinda tried to be straight again?”

“Yeah,” Seth said. “This isn’t just a call reminding me that you’ve had sex with more women than Michael, right?”

“No!” Gob said.

“Just checking. Because I’ve gotten a lot of those, too.”

Gob took a deep breath again and Seth, seeming to finally wake up enough to realize it was actually serious, softly asked, “Gob? What’s wrong?”

“I…” Gob swallowed roughly and said, “I slept with Eve once, right? And I ran into her—she was a teacher at the school Tony and I were doing a presentation at. And she…and she…she never _told_ me that she—that _I_ —that _we_ —”

“Oh my god,” Seth said suddenly. “Do you have a kid?”

“Apparently?”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Seth whispered to himself.

“Yeah,” Gob said. “I guess he _is_ kinda Jesus, since she was Mary in _Jesus Christ Superstar_ —that’s how we met.”

“…Not the same Mary, Gob,” Seth said with a small sigh.

They were both silent for a while. Finally, Gob said what needed to be said. “I never wanted this,” Gob said. In an even quieter voice, he added, “You _know_ I didn’t want this.”

“I know,” Seth said back just as softly.

“I just can’t believe after all of that…after I told you that I didn’t want to be a dad, I guess I _am_ one. Technically.”

“Yeah…” Seth sighed quietly and Gob held back the question of if they’d still be together if he had known about his son. He wasn’t sure he’d like the answer either way.

“His name’s Steve,” Gob finally said. “He…he goes to school with Maeby and George Michael. I found out some stuff from them. He’s…he’s apparently repeating his senior year…but he’s a nice guy? He’s a jock, but he does some theater. He’s the class president, like I was…”

“Have you met him yet?”

“Only briefly and before I knew,” Gob answered quietly.

“Has Eve told him?”

Gob shook his head before he remembered that Seth couldn’t see him. “No. She says he wants to meet me, though—his father, that is.”

“Do you want to meet him? Be a part of his life?”

The silence was almost deafening. After a few seconds, Gob said, “I…I think I should meet him for real, but I don’t know what I could do for him as a father. I…” Gob took a few stuttering breaths before saying, “I can barely take care of myself; how am I supposed to look after a kid?”

“Gob,” Seth said softly, “He’s, what, nineteen? You don’t have to worry about taking care of him. You’d just be there to… _support_ him, if anything. Maybe financially, definitely emotionally.”

“That’s even worse,” Gob replied immediately. He shifted to lay down on his couch and looked up at his ceiling.

“How is that worse?”

“Because look at the father _I_ got,” Gob whispered. “You know how we thought my dad had died? Well, I played for his funeral only because I knew that would piss him off.”

Seth actually laughed a little. “God, Gob… _I_ would’ve personally flown down and played at that funeral just to piss him off.”

“Really?”

“Are you kidding? Gob, your dad was _awful_ to you. He made fun of you your whole life.” Seth always got so fired up when he thought about Gob’s childhood; he had heard stories from Gob and even Michael and Lindsay that made him seriously concerned for all of them, but especially Gob. And Buster, but he had only met Buster once, so it was a different story. “You know I love you, and you know I hate how your parents treated you growing up. Hell, even Christopher feels that way about them.” That was true. Christopher had definitely been concerned by how much Gob was still a part of Seth’s life when they first started going out, but when he realized how much of a support system Gob needed, well, he accepted the fact that Gob was always going to be a part of their lives. And when Seth explained just what made him so needy, he found himself a little protective of him, too. Even if he got annoyed by him. Like when he called at three o'clock in the fucking morning.

“But what does your father have to do with how you’d be as a father? You’re not like him,” Seth insisted. “I’ve told you this so many times.”

“I know,” Gob said quietly. “I just…It’s not like that’s the only reason I didn’t want to be a dad, but I don’t know how to be one now. Not when the only example I have is him.”

“What about Michael? Or Maeby’s father?”

“Definitely not Tobias,” Gob said almost immediately. He sighed and finally admitted, “And I don’t know how to tell him I’m gay.”

“Does Eve know?”

“Yeah, she worked that out herself.” Gob decided not to bring up the details on that.

“Is she okay with it?”

“I think so? She didn’t say I was going to hell or anything,” Gob said. After a thoughtful pause, he asked, “How are you going to explain that to Aria?”

Seth couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. “Gob, I’m sure Steve already knows that gay people exist. It’s a bit different than Christopher and I having to eventually explain that concept to our toddler.”

“I know, I know,” Gob said. “You’re just the only gay parents I know.”

“I know.”

“And I was friends with jocks, you know,” Gob said, nervously tugging at a loose thread on his pants. “And they—I never could’ve told them about—I dropped gym just b-because they s-s-said—”

“Gob, breathe,” Seth said calmly. He knew the warning signs of one of Gob’s stuttering frenzies, and he knew he needed to stop them early if he wasn’t there to help calm him down in person. Gob nodded and started to take deep breaths. “That’s better,” Seth said quietly when he heard Gob’s breathing return to normal.

Seth sighed before saying, “Look, it’s…it’s possible he won’t be okay with it. But if his mom’s okay with it, it’s very likely he’ll be fine—or maybe you’ll even change his mind.” Gob was silent and Seth, partly knowing it would cheer Gob up, said, “You know, just like how Freddie Mercury made a lot of people more open minded.”

Just like Gob could picture Seth slipping out of bed, Seth could picture the smile lighting up Gob’s face. “Yeah…yeah, maybe,” Gob agreed. He still sighed a moment later. "I just don't think I'm ready for this. And I don't even know how to tell Gary."

"I don't think anyone's ever ready for this. And I think you need to decide what you're doing with Steve before you can think about your boyfriend," Seth said. "But, look, it's late. You should at least try to sleep some, okay? You need to rest before you can properly think this over. And you know I don't like suggesting this, but if you need more alcohol to get there, just do it. You shouldn't be awake right now."

As much as he wanted to argue, he knew he wouldn't win any fight about how he didn't want to be asleep. "Okay," Gob said. "Thanks. For everything. You're truly the best Mary Austin I could ever have."

Seth laughed quietly. "Thanks, California; you know I try. Now get some sleep."

"Okay. Love you," Gob said. They also ended phone calls that way, though it was all, of course, in a very platonic way.

"Love you, too."

Once he hung up the phone, Gob looked at it for a while, as if hoping it would somehow give him the right answer. Eventually he opened up his contacts and texted his weed dealer; he was pretty sure that would be the only way he'd get to sleep that night.

* * *

The following Monday was the last day of rehearsals for the orchestra before Thanksgiving. The Bluths never really did much to celebrate the holiday, so Gob always forgot it was even a thing, honestly, but he had to admit he didn’t mind the idea of having almost a whole week off just to be by himself. Hell, he normally would’ve just taken that Monday off if they weren’t working on the Christmas concert, which meant he had to be there to play for _The Nutcracker Suite_ in rehearsal. Well, they probably would've lived without him, but seeing as it was the only time he ever got a solo in an ensemble piece, he wanted to be there. He could use the distraction anyways.

But he apparently really _did_ need the break, since he kept messing up the said celesta solo in the freaking "[Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rapf3g_XvCc)" bit. As in the one big celesta solo everyone in the world knew. As in the piece he had played millions of times in his life. As in one of the easiest things to play. First, he kept missing his cue to come in. Then, he messed up his glissando. Finally, he fucked up at the tempo change.

Gob managed to get his shit together by the end of the run through, but he felt like a complete dumbass on top of everything else.

When Tim dismissed everyone, Gob stayed seated for a while and pretended to be engrossed in his sheet music so people wouldn’t try talking to him. He didn’t look up until he thought the coast was clear, only to find that Tony was still there, purposefully putting his violin in its case as slowly as possible.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Gob asked Tony, a little annoyed that he had apparently waited for him.

“Not really, no,” Tony said. “I’m staying out here for the holiday, so I don’t have to rush to the airport or anything, and I don’t have any family out here to run home to like the other guys, so…” He shrugged and asked Gob, “What about you? Don’t you want to spend time with your family?”

“…I don’t know.”

Tony looked at him in puzzlement and crossed his arms. What had happened after their outreach program that Friday?

“Well, wanna grab some food and a drink?” Tony finally asked.

Gob looked at his music and then at his watch and then back to Tony. “I wouldn’t be much of a Bluth if I didn’t start drinking at lunch.”

* * *

"You seemed distracted today in rehearsal,” Tony said as they finished off their meal. Gob had suggested a Mexican place and he was already on his third margarita, and Tony was pretty sure he had snuck in a shot or two when he went to the restroom, but he still seemed to be weirdly sober. He knew Gob had a high tolerance, but _damn_.

Gob snorted. “Yeah, understatement of the fucking century.” He used his straw to push the rest of the frozen mixture into his mouth before getting the waitress’ attention to order another drink, this time on the rocks.

“Is everything…okay?” Tony asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Gob volleyed back.

“Well, I don’t know,” Tony said with a frown. “But you’re not really acting like yourself…I know it’s probably been a weird few weeks because of your dad and everything. Thinking he’s dead and then realizing he isn’t—”

“Wanna go to the bar next door after this?” Gob asked. “I’ll pay; I have a tab running there, anyways.”

“…Um, sure, I guess,” Tony said.

“Great,” Gob replied. When the waitress came back with Gob’s drink, he handed her his credit card and said, “Don’t worry about splitting the check. I got it covered.” She gave him a strange look but nodded and went off with his card.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Tony insisted.

“Nah, it’s cool; I know my stuff was more expensive anyways.” 

“Yeah, but I could’ve paid for my own—”

“It’s fine. I’ve waited tables before and I know splitting checks isn’t fun.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. There are worse things, though…” He looked at Gob curiously and asked, “Why did you wait tables?”

“Well, I had to make money in between gigs somehow, right?”

“Yeah, I know, but…I just figured your parents helped you out financially until you got steady work.” Tony winced, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that; they just seem to have enough money, so I thought they probably gave you some.”

Gob shrugged. “They did in high school and college, but then I did my best not to speak to my dad, so…” Gob shrugged yet again. “Sometimes Michael sent me money, but only if I was really desperate. But I wasn’t living alone those first few years so it wasn’t too bad financially.”

Tony nodded but remained silent as the waitress came back with the bill that was longer than the black holder it was in. Gob quickly signed the check and seemed to use his fingers to work out a tip before giving up and just leaving a large amount. “It’s the time of giving, anyways,” he muttered to himself before all but chugging the margarita he had. He didn't even seem to get a brain freeze or anything.

“So, bar?” Gob asked, slipping out of his booth with an ease that did not seem possible after all the alcohol he had.

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said, slipping out of his side of the booth and following Gob outside.

Thankfully, once they sat at the bar, Gob ordered a whiskey and seemed to decide to only sip it for the time being.

“So…any plans for the holiday?” Tony asked.

“Not really,” Gob replied simply. “We don’t really do much for Thanksgiving. My mom never made any of our maids work on major holidays and none of us can really cook a turkey. I think Michael and his wife used to do things, but I was never really around for that.” He looked at Tony and asked, “Why aren’t you going home?”

“Eh, New York’s a mess on Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, yeah, true,” Gob said with a slight laugh. “Tourist central.”

“Exactly,” Tony said. “The long flight isn’t really worth it. I mean, I miss my ma’s cooking, but I’ll get to have a ton of it over Christmas break. And I mean _plenty_ of it; she always says I’m too skinny whenever I visit her.”

Gob laughed again. “Yeah, isn’t that, like, the Jewish mother stereotype?”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t even raised Jewish, so it’s even funnier,” Tony said with a laugh of his own.

“Wait, what? But I thought you were Jewish?”

“I am. My mom converted for my dad, which did _not_ make my grandparents too happy,” Tony said, wincing slightly. “They got over it eventually, but my grandmother definitely tried to get some of us baptized—she was _very_ Catholic and _very_ Italian.”

“So, you’re Italian _and_ Jewish?” Gob asked.

“Yep. It was a weird house to grow up in. And _way_ too small for my family,” Tony said, smiling nostalgically as he tore at the wrapper on his beer bottle with the nail on his thumb.

“Yeah? How many siblings do you have?”

“Six,” Tony said. Gob’s eyes widened, which made Tony laugh. “Mostly sisters, but I have two brothers—” Tony suddenly cut himself off, a darker look in his eyes. “…Well, had. My older brother…he died.”

“Oh,” Gob said softly. “…I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say; he couldn’t imagine losing any of his siblings, even Buster. Just the thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Tony had a big gulp of his beer and then said, “But, yeah, there’s my younger brother, plus two older sisters and two younger. And all of us with long ass, stereotypical Italian names. Like, seriously, have you seen  _Friends_? Because Joey's sisters might as well have been based off mine. If it wasn’t for our last name, you wouldn’t even know we weren’t Roman Catholic like my grandparents wished we were.”

“Is Tony an Italian name? Wait—were the Jets supposed to be Italian?”

“I don’t know, but Tony’s not my full first name,” Tony explained. “It’s a nickname. I don’t think most people are named Tony, it’s normally short for something.”

“Oh…What’s your full name, then?”

Tony groaned. “Ugh, you don’t want to hear it; it’s ridiculous.”

“If it’s ridiculous, I wanna hear it even more,” Gob teased him. “You know mine! It can’t be as bad as George Oscar Bluth II.”

“It’s worse. Trust me. There's a reason Italians normally don't do middle names, it's just ridiculous.” Tony rolled his eyes, but Gob kept insisting until Tony sighed. “Okay. Well, as I said, it’s very Italian until you get to the very German last name.” Taking a big breath, Tony said, “ _Antonio Francesco Wunderlich_.” He even used the proper Italian ah and dentalized T, and said his last name in the proper German pronunciation, with a “v” sound at the beginning and a “ch” in the back of his throat at the end. “But most people say my last name like ‘wonder-lick’ instead of saying it the German way.”

They were both silent for a moment before Gob said, “Yeah, you’re right, your name is way worse.”

Both of them laughed. “Thanks,” Tony said. “Hence the stage name. My mom always gets on my case about how I shouldn’t have made a stage name, especially with my first name. She normally calls me Tony, but she thinks Antonio is such a nice name for classical music. But could you imagine being a _violinist_ named _Antonio_? Just imagine all the Antonio Vivaldi references people would make.” At the look on Gob’s face, Tony’s eyes widened. “Oh, god, _please_ don’t start making Vivaldi references.”

Gob acted scandalized. “What! I would _never_ do that!” He shook his head and _tsked_ at Tony, but Tony knew better than to believe that.

“Get it out of your system."

“…I was just wondering what your favorite season is.”

“Like _The Four Seasons_. The violin concerti by Vivaldi. Clever,” Tony said in a monotone voice, even while Gob laughed. Tony rolled his eyes and finished his beer, which gave Gob enough time to stop laughing at the clearly hilarious joke.

“Well, at least your nickname’s easy to pronounce,” Gob said after a moment. “I can’t tell you how many times people thought my name was _Gawb_ for some reason.”

“Yeah, how did you even get that nickname?” Tony asked. “Did you come up with it?”

“No, my parents did. I didn’t even know my full first name until I was, like, five or something,” Gob said. “They said it was so there wouldn’t be confusion over which George people were talking to—like, me or my dad—but I really think it was because my dad regretted giving me his name instead of Michael. Like, I don’t even think I knew how to read by the time they decided Michael would take over the Bluth Company instead of me, and, yeah, I learned how to read music first, but it didn't take me  _that_ long to learn  how to read, and I  _should've_ had the company job because I’m the oldest—the _matriarch_.”

Tony decided against correcting Gob on the meaning of that word.

“You know, my dad always used this one word to mean that something or someone was, like, a screw-up or something. A _geo-bead_ ,” Gob said. He snorted and explained, “Well, I _thought_ it was a word. He always said I’d get it when I was older. And I finally did recently. He wasn’t saying _geo-bead_ , he was saying _G-O-B_.” Gob forced out a laugh, “Classic dad stuff, right?”

Gob, like Tony did a few moments earlier, rolled his eyes and finished his drink, Tony watching with concern before getting the attention of the bartender.

“Well, from the very little I know about your dad, he sounds like an asshole,” Tony said after they both ordered another round each.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Gob said darkly. Once he had another drink in his hand, he said, “And that’s part of why I never wanted kids. I don’t have the best example to look up to.” Tony nodded; he didn’t really want any, either, though he felt like he had a good example with his dad.

“So, it kinda sucks to find out that I have one.”

Tony choked on his drink in surprise. Gob barely blinked as Tony coughed.

“…Come again?” Tony asked weakly once he started to breathe normally again.

“You know that teacher we did the presentation for on Friday?” Gob asked. Once Tony nodded apprehensively, Gob said, “Well, she was my girlfriend my senior year of high school. And _apparently,_ I did the Bluth Family Tradition of knocking her up, only she never told me. We were broken up by then, but…” Gob shrugged helplessly, leaning his arms on the bar.

There was a long silence as Tony tried to process this new information. It definitely conflicted with, well, everything else he knew about Gob. And apparently, he had been wondering long enough and he had just enough alcohol to ask, “So, you’re bi?”

Both men looked rather confused at the other. “I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I just—I’ve seen how you talk to some guys and, and—and your obviously _male_ stripper friends. And the George Michael costume, and I saw you make out with that guy at your birthday—and, _god_ , you knew the name of the other guy in Wham! I thought maybe you were bi, but you never seemed to show interest in women, so I just assumed you were gay.”

“…Huh,” Gob said. “I mean, I _am_ gay, like _really_ gay, I just didn’t realize you put all of that together.” After a moment he shrugged and said, “I guess I should’ve known people at the orchestra would realize after the party. My siblings said they were taking me to a straight bar so I could be their wingman, and I figured I’d dress extra gay to avoid girls trying to flirt with me.” Gob took a sip of his drink before adding, “I didn’t tell you because I never really know who to tell during professional things. I’ve met a lot of weirdly conservative people in the industry, so I didn’t want to risk it.”

After another sip, Gob added, “You could’ve just asked, though; I would’ve told you because we’re friends.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh a bit; it seemed so dumb that he wasted all that time wondering to himself. “Well, yeah, but I figured it wasn’t my business, even if we are friends.” Still looking a bit confused, Tony asked, “So, wait, back up, you have a kid with Eve?”

“Yeah,” Gob sighed. “…I knew I was gay. I had just had this amazing summer at this camp with this guy—he was my roommate then, but we ended up dating after college. It didn’t work out, but he’s still, like, my best friend.” Gob smiled like he always did when he thought about Seth. “Anyways, I didn’t _want_ to be gay. I knew it wouldn’t be okay in my family. And I just sorta panicked. And then I was recruited in that musical and Eve was in it, and I dated a _lot_ of girls in high school. And had sex with a _lot_ of them. Like, really, a _lot_ of them. And Eve was in the musical, I hadn’t fucked her, I found out from my sister that she was religious, so I thought we wouldn’t have to have sex and I could just please my parents.

“But I also thought maybe I _wasn’t_ gay and I tried to be straight. So, we had sex on prom night. Like, if Steven Carrington could do it, why couldn’t I?”

“I loved _Dynasty_ ,” Tony said with a smile as Gob paused to take a sip of his drink.

“It’s a great show, right? Anyways, after one last attempt at being straight, literally just _one round_ that I _cried_ after, Eve got knocked up and didn’t tell me only for me to find out, like, nineteen years later. So. how do I tell my boyfriend of only _one month_ that I have a kid? How do I tell this kid I suddenly have that I’m his dad? How can I even be a dad when I had the world’s worst father? God—” Gob cut himself off to finish his drink, ordering another one as soon as he finished.

As soon as he had another drink in his hand, Gob took a sip. “You know the proudest I ever made my dad?”

Tony looked at Gob with both concern and curiosity. “No, I don’t.”

“My freshman year of high school,” Gob said. “I was dating this girl…Meh something, I don’t remember. We were the freshman representatives on the Homecoming court and everything, right? Only, I wasn’t interested in her. I wonder why.” Gob snorted at his past self and had another sip. “Anyways, my family’s having dinner and she comes up in conversation, and my sister implied that I fucked her, right? And my dad…my dad looked prouder of me than I have ever seen him. So, I went with it, said I wasn’t ready to be tied down, and he said I was growing up to be just like him. And that was a good thing, apparently.”

Gob rubbed his forehead and sighed. “You know, technically I punched him first. Not at the boat party, though. Years earlier. At Michael’s bachelor party. We were actually getting along that night, until the stripping stuff started. He saw how I clearly was more interested in talking with the bartender…” Gob, again, laughed dryly at his past self. He had wondered so many times what would’ve happened if he hadn’t talked to that bartender. “So, he basically forced me to get a lap dance and I just…I got tired of hiding, you know? I freaked out and he kept just…just _pushing_ me. Like, with questions and then physically and it was like _years_ of him implying I was gay like it was a bad thing. Like, just because I played piano and wasn’t a fucking robot, like Michael is, I was apparently some flamer to him. Even when I broke my wrist, he started making jokes about my ‘limp’ wrists. And I was _so tired_ of dealing with it so, I punched him in the face.”

“…Jesus,” Tony said quietly, since he really didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah,” Gob sighed. “It's why I moved away a few months later and stayed as far away as possible. Until I got stuck here after punching him again.” After a moment, Gob admitted, “Actually, I’ve loved being back. I’ve always loved being in southern California. I just…don’t like it now that all of this has happened.”

Gob sighed heavily and had a large sip of his drink, nearly finishing it all. Tony watched him, his mind moving a mile a minute.

“…Sorry, this is a lot of new information to process,” Tony said after a long silence.

“It’s fine; I’m sorry for unloading this all on you,” Gob said, his speech finally the slightest bit slurred. “I keep trying to figure out what to do, but everyone…everyone says I should just talk to him, but it’s not that simple? I spent years not wanting kids, that’s half of why I broke up with Seth.” Tony figured that had to be some ex of some sort. “Seth has a kid and partner or whatever now and he’s a great dad and he says I would be, too, but, like—I don’t even know where to start, like, I don't know how to be a fucking _dad_. He’s, like, a jock, and I never even played _catch_ with my dad. And he’s gotta be mad that I haven’t been there or so long, right? And what teenage jock wants to hear that their dad’s gay?”

Gob groaned again. “Sorry, sorry, I know you don’t wanna deal with this.”

“It’s fine, Gob, really,” Tony said. “I’m actually honored you’re trusting me with this stuff. I know a lot of it is probably just because of the alcohol, but you probably wouldn’t have had this much alcohol around me if you didn’t want me to know.” Gob barely followed that thought, but he nodded anyways. He _did_ trust Tony.

“…I definitely don’t have experience in, like, any of this,” Tony finally said. “There is a _lot_ of stuff to unpack in literally everything you’ve said in the past half hour and then some. Like, you should  _definitely_ see a therapist.” Gob laughed since even he knew that was true. “But, if I was that kid, I think I’d rather know who my dad was and get to know him than spend my whole life wondering what happened to him. I think _that_ would fuck me up more, him not being around and all.

“And, yeah, your dad sounds like complete scum, but you know that. You’re not trying to defend him or anything; you know that he was a bad father to you. So, that means you know not to be like him. I think that means you’ll be a good dad.” After a moment, Tony added, “Plus, it’d be a pretty big _fuck you_ to your dad when you end up being a better father than him, so that’s cool.”

Gob hadn’t thought about it like that. “…I guess that’s true,” he said softly.

“Right now, the kid probably just needs a friend and a role model,” Tony said. “So, if you don’t feel ready to be a dad, just…don’t be one. Be his friend. Let him know you’re there. Show him how to be an adult." Gob made a face and Tony said, "Hey, you've got a great job, a boyfriend, and you're living independently. And you still have fun. That's a pretty cool adult right there."

“As for your boyfriend…” Tony admitted, “I’ve never had a serious enough relationship to really know, honestly. It’s not like you have to raise him or anything, so it shouldn’t really affect your relationship that much. Maybe? I don't know. But I guess you just gotta tell him like you told me.” As an afterthought, Tony said, “Actually, _don’t_ tell him like you told me; maybe stay sober for that conversation.”

Gob swirled his glass around carefully on the bar as he sluggishly thought over Tony’s advice. He sighed loudly and muttered, “I can’t believe one night led to all of this.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of like a walking PSA for abstinence,” Tony mused.

* * *

Michael picked up his ringing cell phone and saw Gob’s name on the caller ID. “Gob?”

“Oh, hey, is this Michael Bluth?”

Michael frowned; that wasn’t his brother’s voice. “…Yes?”

“Awesome. This is Tony—Tony Wonder. I wasn’t sure if this was the right Michael or not, Gob has a few others in here,” Tony explained.

“Yeah, um, is he okay?” Michael asked. “Why are you calling from his phone?”

“We went to get some lunch and—what? No, Gob, I’m talking to him right now, it’s fine, he—” Michael sighed as he heard Gob’s voice in the background trying to tell Tony something. Without another thought, Michael went to grab his keys and wallet. “I’m sure he’s not mad at you, Gob, let me talk to him—”

“What bar are you at?” Michael asked, stepping out of the door of the model home before Tony even said the name of the place.

* * *

“Thanks for helping,” Tony told Michael once they managed to get Gob into his bed. He passed out only seconds later, all the alcohol finally catching up to him. But, hey, at least he hadn’t thrown up. "I've never been to his place and he wasn't giving the best directions. Plus the whole half-dragging him thing."

Michael nodded; he had to take Tony with him since he was struggling with getting Gob to move properly by himself. “Thanks for calling me,” Michael said back. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him that drunk.”

“It’s honestly amazing that he’s still alive after everything he had,” Tony said.

Michael snorted. “Yeah, well, I'm considered the lightweight of the family and I can still have two bottles of wine and still be safe to drive. I'm not proud of that, but I guess it's not the worst party trick."

Tony raised his eyebrows, part of him wanting to ask how the hell their family managed that, but then he decided against it. “I guess he’s going through a lot right now,” Tony said quietly, looking back down at Gob. “…He told me about Steve and everything—and I mean _everything_.”

“Everything?”

“It seemed like it,” Tony said with a dry laugh.. At Michael’s questioning look, he explained, “Mainly stuff about your dad, but he also finally told me he was gay, but I had figured that out myself.” He shrugged and said, “He’s not really subtle.”

Not wanting to admit that he had been completely blindsided when he found out, Michael agreed, “Right. Totally.” After a moment, he added, for his own ego, “Well, he was subtler when we were younger.”

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing he didn’t want your dad to have any more ammo against him,” Tony said, lightly pushing back some of Gob’s hair.

Michael was about to respond, when he saw the look on Tony’s face. It was very affectionate and rather sweet. Caring. Soft. Michael slowly closed his mouth as he tried to figure out what that look _meant_.

After a few moments, Michael said, “We should get you back to the bar so you can get your car.” Tony snapped out of it, looking slightly guilty in a way that made Michael certain that look meant  _something_ , and nodded. “You’re sure you’re safe to drive, right?”

“I may not have your Bluth tolerance or whatever, but I can definitely handle a couple of drinks and still drive,” Tony said. "You'll check on him later, right?" 

"Yeah, of course," Michael said. Tony nodded and, after one last look at his passed out friend, he followed Michael out of the house and back to his car.

* * *

On Thursday afternoon, Gob found himself walking around a suburban block. He kept passing by one house in particular, an address for which he found after a bit of digging. For all he knew, the place was empty. After all, it was Thanksgiving; maybe they were at another family member’s house. Maybe they were spending it with friends. Maybe he’d ring the doorbell and get no response.

When he finally got the courage to do just that, he kind of hoped that would happen. But, well, no such luck.

“Gob?”

“Hey, Eve,” Gob replied, trying to smile a little. He looked around a bit awkwardly and offered, “I brought you some wine. It’s really good stuff; I know my alcohol well.”

“I remember,” Eve said, taking the bottle Gob offered. She looked it over, and then looked over Gob. “…Do you want to come in?”

Eve led Gob through to the kitchen as he asked, “Are you going anywhere today?”

“No, it’s just the two of us this year,” Eve said. “Sometimes we go to my mom’s, but she’s visiting one of my sisters.” 

Gob nodded. “Cool, cool…” He looked around the kitchen; it looked a lot like, well, what he figured houses normally looked like. Not Bluth houses, but real houses, houses that held families and memories and were maybe a bit less than perfect, but cozy. It was oddly comforting, almost like when he visited the Evans.

"Why did you wait to tell me?" Gob finally asked as Eve messed around with something on the stove, Gob wasn't sure what.

Eve looked back at him and then back at the cooking pot. "Well, I wasn't particularly interested in telling you after you dumped me so suddenly; I felt a bit used then, even without realizing the gay thing," she said reasonably. "Then you were off at Juilliard, which was  _another_ thing that made me think you were gay, by the way. The next time I heard about you, you had gotten in a public fist fight with your dad, which I didn't want near my son. You didn't seem stable."

Gob looked down at his feet. Okay, yeah, those were pretty good reasons. He definitely wouldn't have wanted to hear about it back when he was in high school, and definitely not a year ago, either. "Why did you tell me at all, then?"

"Like I've said, I'm friends with music teachers. Funny enough, one of them wanted to set us up. Nancy Nelson?" Gob laughed at that and shook his head, Eve laughing as well. "After she went to your concert she randomly said she didn't think we'd be a good fit after all. I wonder why." Again, they both laughed and Eve finally turned back around to face Gob. "But she still raved about you and said I should consider sending some of the kids at school to you for lessons as well as her. She doesn't know about us, obviously, but I trust her opinion. So, I figured you were stable enough and, well, Steve's always wanted to meet his father. And when it comes to him…I don't know, maybe him knowing you would be a good thing for him right now. You're not the worst role model he could have."

Gob smiled a little and nodded. It was nice knowing that Eve thought that way about him.

A few minutes and a brief discussion later, Eve led Gob down to the basement where Steve was watching a football game. Or maybe it was _the_ football game. Did multiple football games play on Thanksgiving? Gob didn’t know. He had memories of watching the parade on TV and then Lindsay would normally put on the dog show, but, despite his dad trying to be all macho all the time, they were never really a sports-watching family.

Steve cheered loudly over something or other, Gob had no idea what, and didn’t seem to notice anyone had come down until Eve stood in front of the TV. “Steve,” she started, “We have a guest.”

Steve turned around and waved when he saw Gob. “Hey! You’re the guy who dated my mom, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Gob said after a brief pause. “Gob.”

“Right, yeah,” Steve said.

The oven timer went off upstairs and Eve looked towards the stairs with a frown. “I guess we need to make this quick,” she muttered. Grabbing the remote, she turned the TV off, ignoring Steve’s groans about how it was unfair. “Steve, Gob’s here to see you.” Steve looked at Gob in confusion and then back at his mom. “You’ve wanted to meet your father for a long time and, well, that’s Gob.”

Gob felt his heart stop at hearing those words said out loud in front of Steve. Eve saw his face and shrugged. “You’ve got to rip off the band-aid.” She gestured for him to sit down and, though his legs felt heavy, he complied, sitting down on the opposite edge of the couch from Steve.

“Now, I’ll be upstairs checking on the food,” Eve said. “You two…talk.” With that, Eve hurried out of there, leaving the two of them in a heavy silence.

“So…you’re my dad,” Steve said slowly.

Despite his instinct to either run or lie, Gob nodded. “Apparently, yeah.” Steve still seemed to be thinking it over, so Gob added, “I’m not really…I don’t really know what a dad _does_. Or how to be one or anything like that. But…but, yeah, I guess I wanted you to know. I didn’t know until, like, a week ago, so…” Gob stopped talking, his eyes darting towards the stairs. No one would blame him if he left if Steve got angry or something, right?

Steve sat still for a moment before his face broke out into a smile. “Awesome!”

“Really?” Gob asked. That was _not_ the reaction he was expecting. At. All.

“Yeah, really! I’ve always wanted to meet my dad!” Steve said, smiling brightly. There was no hint of sarcasm or irony or anything; he was truly happy just to know who his dad was.

After a moment, Gob grinned. “I guess I can’t blame you; I _am_ pretty cool.”

“So, _dad_ , what do you do?” Steve asked.

And somehow his excitement made Gob forget to panic at being called that word. “I’m a pianist. I’m one of the resident artists at the Newport Orchestra.”

“Awesome,” Steve said.

“Do you play anything?” Gob asked.

“No…but I do some theater,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I heard about that. I did a show in high school. It’s how I met your mom,” Gob explained. “You’re class president, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I was, too,” Gob said. “It must run in the family.”

Steve beamed with excitement at having something in common with his dad.

“So, if you’re here, does this mean you’re gonna date my mom again?” Steve asked.

“Oh, god, no,” Gob said quickly, laughing at the mere idea. At Steve’s look he said, “Your mom and I were never a good match…besides, I’m dating someone right now.”

“Oh,” Steve said, shrugging it off. “What’s she like?”

Yet again, Gob’s eyes darted towards the stairs, just in case he had to make a run for it. “Uh…well…” He looked back at Steve and said, “I dated a lot in high school, you know. Had a lot of girlfriends.”

“Yeah? Me, too,” Steve said, grinning yet again at the idea of having something in common with his dad.

“Yeah…well, my experience was different than yours. I’m gonna guess, at least. Because I didn’t really want to date or sleep with any of them,” Gob said. “Your mom was actually the last girl I ever even tried to date. I'm dating a guy. I'm…gay."

“…Oh.”

Again, a silence fell over the two of them. Gob’s eyes went back to the stairs and, as the silence seemed to drag on for minutes—though it was probably only seconds—Gob started to shift his weight forward, getting ready to bolt out of there—

“ _Awesome!_ ” 

Gob looked back at Steve, utterly confused at how _happy_ he looked at the idea. “Really?”

“Yeah! First, I had no dad, now I have one, and someday I might have a step-dad? That’s _two_ dads!” Steve explained, as if that was the best news he ever heard.

“Gary and I have only been dating for a month,” Gob said cautiously. “But, yeah, I guess one day that might happen. Sure. And, you know, you have some uncles and an aunt from my side, too.”

Steve looked excited at the idea, but then a thought crossed his mind. “…You being gay doesn’t mean I’m gonna be gay, right?”

“No one else in my family’s gay, so I don’t think so?” Gob said. “Besides, I knew by the time I was your age, so you’d probably know by now.”

Steve looked relief. “Good. I mean, no offense, but I really like girls. A lot.”

Gob nodded. “It’s cool. I still accept you."

“So, if I’m not gay, am I still gonna get the same hairline as you?” Steve asked.

Gob fought off the urge to glare at the mention of his hairline. It wasn’t _that_ bad, okay? But he sighed and brought a hand to it. “My uncle still has all his hair, but my dad went bald, so, maybe it’ll happen to you? I don’t know. I still have more hair than my dad did at my age, so whatever.”

“I didn’t even think about having a grandfather! What’s he like?” Steve asked.

Gob paused, not sure what to say. Did he break the news that his dad was awful? Did he point out that his dad was on the run from the police? Did he lie and say he’d like him?

In the end, Gob decided to not answer and asked Steve another question instead. There was no need to bring his father up in all of this.

After all, their relationship had nothing to do with the one he had with Steve.

* * *

Breaking with the tradition they had set up, Gob stopped by Tony’s office the following Monday instead of waiting for him to stop by his. He waited until he heard Tony finish a piece before knocking the door and opening it.

“Hey,” Gob said as he popped his head in through the door.

“Oh, hey,” Tony said, his violin still in hand, “Come on in.”

As Gob shut the door behind him, he looked around at the space. It was a lot like his own office, just with no piano, but there was a large, ornate stand on it with some music Tony had obviously been working on.

Gob cleared his throat and said, “I just wanted to say thanks for, uh, last Monday. Sorry I got so wasted, but thanks for getting me home. And listening and everything.”

“No problem,” Tony said, taking the chin rest off his violin. “What are friends for, right?”

Gob gave Tony a small smile in return and nodded. “So…how was your Thanksgiving?” Gob asked.

Tony shrugged and put his violin back in his case. “It was fine. I called my folks, watched the parade, made a turkey sandwich from deli slices. My pumpkin pie turned out great this year, and I made some cinnamon rolls that were almost as good as my mom's.”

“Wait, you made it yourself?”

“Yeah,” Tony said simply, loosening the strings on his bow. “My parents own a bakery and I worked there all the time growing up; if I ever bought a pie instead of making it myself, I’m pretty sure I’d get disowned,” he joked. “I didn’t even know store-bought pie-crust existed until, like, two years ago.”

Gob looked at Tony in amazement. He still struggled with the most basic recipes; he couldn’t imagine actually baking a pie. “Wow.”

“What about you?” Tony asked. “Did you end up doing anything with your family?” Tony looked at him expectedly, obviously waiting for him to say something about Steve.

“…I did,” Gob said hesitatingly. “I…I found Eve’s address and went over. Met Steve for real.”

“Yeah?” With a large grin, Tony sat down on his desk. “That’s awesome, man." He put  his hand up for a high five, which Gob did, smiling widely as Tony gripped his hand for a moment. It made him feel even lighter for some reason. "How’d it go?”

“Surprisingly well,” Gob answered. “I guess he just wanted a dad so badly that even I’d do. He’s pretty cool, actually. Really sweet. And Eve let me stay for Thanksgiving, so that was pretty cool. I’ve never said grace before a meal, so that was a little weird, but besides that it was actually really good.”

“Nice! And did you…you know, talk about the gay thing?”

Gob smiled wider and nodded. “The idea of possibly having a step-dad on top of it made him pretty pumped.”

“Yeah? And how does your boyfriend feel about that?” Tony asked, his eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know,” Gob admitted, “I haven’t told him yet. I wanted to wait to tell him in person, and we have a date scheduled for tomorrow night, so…” He rolled his eyes, “I already told Steve it’s not gonna happen for a while. I mean, Gary and I didn’t become official until a month ago, and with my mom…that’s a whole weird issue.” Gob didn’t even want to think about that, so he shook his head.

Tony nodded, looking at Gob thoughtfully. “Yeah. And you never know if it’s gonna last that long after just a month.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, anyways,” Tony said. At Gob’s laugh, he said, “I’m serious! It took some guts to talk to him. I’m mad impressed.”

“Thanks,” Gob said with a smile. “Anyways, I was gonna grab some food. Wanna come with?” Again, Tony looked at Gob thoughtfully, so curiously that Gob nervously added, “Like, as friends. I’m not trying to hit on your or anything.”

A few seconds later, Tony laughed. “Sure, I’ll go. But come on, really? You’re not hitting on me? Am I not your type or something?” Tony teased.

As Tony closed his violin case and started to look for his wallet, Gob insisted, “I don’t have a type.” But, even as he said that, he finally realized how much Tony really _did_ fit his type: dark hair, small, cute…

Gob shook his head to clear it, giving Tony a smile as they started to leave. Anything he felt for Tony was definitely just friendship and nothing more. Besides, it wasn't like Tony was gay or anything.

...Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry again for the wait! Thank you all for reading and I really hope you liked it, despite of or because of its length! This one was over 16k GOD. I'm trying to write things kind of parallel to the first fic, hence why this chapter focused a lot on Eve, had a Seth appearance, and had an HIV test in it. I also just wanted to talk about fatherhood in general, since, in this verse, it's even more of a hardship for Gob than in canon. 
> 
> That was part of what made me choose a Clara Schumann piece for this chapter! I really encourage you to read up on her, since she was a fucking badass - there's a reason she was on the 100 Deutschmark before the Euro came to be! But, in a brief summary of her over 70 years of life, she was born Clara Wieck and, when her parents divorced, her father won custody of her. He was a respected piano teacher and she rose to prominence around the age of nine and was a virtuoso by the time she was 12. It's said Robert Schumann was so inspired by her that he quit law school to study with her father, but the situation is a bit more nuanced than that. Anyways, they did fall in love, but her father Friederich denied him the right to marry her. They spent a year in court fighting for his legal right to her hand (that's the 1800s for you), and eventually the court gave them the right because she was about to turn 21 anyways, when she would've been legal to marry him regardless. It took some time before he'd talk to her again after that marriage. So, yeah, she had a very complicated relationship with her own father, and I'm sure her 8 children had a complicated relationship with their own father, seeing as he was very likely bipolar and definitely had mental and physical health issues due to his late stage syphilis (yes, it's very Gob-esque). Since I couldn't find songs specifically about fathers, I thought I'd go ahead and show off one of my fave female composers. She's also fitting for this fic because Liszt wrote the Paganini études for her, though she hated him later on in her life since they were on opposing sides of music - she was more traditionalist and he was with Wagner.
> 
> But, yeah, anyways, sorry for the tangent. You know how I said at one point in the first fic that Gob would randomly spout out facts about the Schumanns and Brahms possible relationship with them? That's literally me, it's all I talk about, I have read way too much on her. My senior recital was all female composers and she was the first one I ever studied.
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter and let me know any thoughts or comments or anything you have! I know this chapter covered a lot, but it all fit into a theme so like I had to! I hope it turned out well. And, again, the playlist, if wanted, can be found [here](https://8tracks.com/valenciaperez/etude-no-3-in-g-sharp-minor-s-141)! Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Gavotte (Suite für Klavier)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gavotte, _Suite für Klavier_ (Op. 25, no. 2)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9I8TcVx7mzY)  
>  by Arnold Schoenberg

**"Gavotte", _Suite für Klavier_** ** _(Suite for Piano)_    **  

“What’s his name?” Lucille asked, a cigarette dangling between two of her fingers as she looked over at Gob.

He had been putting off telling his mom about this for a long time, afraid of what her reaction would be. But after one of their weekly get-togethers of watching some TV show and drinking and then going out on her balcony to smoke, Gob finally got the courage to tell her the secret that had been weighing down on him. He still couldn’t believe how well she seemed to be taking it.

Gob busied himself with lighting his own cigarette before he answered. Once his cigarette was lit and his lighter was back in his pocket, he answered, “Steve Holt.”

“Eve and Steve.” She sniffed. “How… _clever_.”

“Yeah…” He really didn’t think she had room to talk, seeing as she had just named him after his dad, but he decided not to engage with that fight.

Lucille took a drag off her cigarette and looked over the night sky. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I seem to recall having to sign a couple of checks to make some similar problems disappear when you were in high school.”

Gob always tried to block out the couple of girlfriends he had who had hit him up for abortion money. It only happened twice, but he felt pretty bad about it after all of the years had passed.

“He’s a sweet kid,” Gob said after another drag. “He gets excited about, like, everything. Super nice. He’s student body president and did some theater with Maeby.” He frowned a little as he thought of his niece. She had seemed pretty disappointed to find out that Steve was her cousin, because, apparently, she had some crush on him. George Michael, however, seemed relieved about that; Gob assumed he felt about Maeby dating the same way he felt about Lindsay dating when he was growing up. Hell, sometimes he _still_ got over-protective with the whole “open marriage” thing.

Then again, he wasn’t _completely_ against it because at least it kept her away from Tobias, who still made him majorly uncomfortable.

“I’m sure,” Lucille finally said, finally looking over at Gob. “Well…there are worse stories about us that could hit the newsstands.”

“Yeah. Agent Anna’s ready if anything gets out,” Gob reassured her. He snorted and added, “Seeing as dad’s been accused of treason, I think we have bigger things to worry about.” Lucille frowned, but didn’t refute him.

The two smoked in silence for a while, not saying a word until they both finished off their cigarettes. It was only when Gob finally stepped on his ash that Lucille turned back to her son. Even then, she took a while to actually speak, a calculating look on her face as she carefully picked out her words.

“I never imagined you having children. Or even being in their lives."

“Me, neither,” Gob agreed. Before he could stop himself, he muttered, “Not like I’ve had any reason to worry about that happening for a while.”

Almost as soon as the words left his lips, he wished he could take it back. The air fell heavy between the two of them as the subject they never broached, at least not in actual, real conversation, was vaguely brought up. Gob nervously placed a hand on the railing of the balcony while his mom’s lips pursed. She looked like she wanted to say something about it.

But, instead, she suggested, “One more drink for the road?”

Gob let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “…Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” He watched his mom go back into the penthouse and then gave one last look at the ocean.

When he sighed, he wasn’t sure if it was out of relief or disappointment.

* * *

Once the New Year hit, Tony and Gob devoted as much of their time possible to figuring out the full logistics of the Paganini recital. While they had made loose plans for what to play, they needed to make decisions on everything else, including the concert order, ASAP.

“Okay, so, the first half is going to be purely Paganini,” Tony said as he looked over the notes he had made. He was sitting at Gob’s desk in his office while Gob was sitting on his piano bench, sorting out some sheet music in his binder. “A couple duets for us, and then I’ll do the caprices.”

“Are you gonna do all twenty-four?”

“Maybe…But that’s about an hour and a half of music, which might be too much with everything else we have going on.” Tony frowned at the sheet of paper in front of him. “Which ones do your pieces quote again?”

“Uh…Brahms is just variations of the twenty-fourth, and so is the last of the Liszt,” Gob said.

“Right, and the Ysaÿe is based off that one, too. And ‘La Campanella’ is from the concerto, so I won’t be playing that,” Tony said.

“Right. The rest of the movements, uh…” Gob flipped through his sheet music, where he had written down the caprices the work was based on; he figured getting to know the themes from the original source was a good study. “The first is the sixth with a bit of the fifth at the end…The second is the seventeenth. Third is ‘Campanella’. Fourth is based on the first caprice, and the fifth is based off Paganini’s ninth."

“I’ll definitely do those,” Tony said with a nod of his head, quickly writing down those numbers. “And the thirteenth, since they call it 'Devil’s Laugh'. It fits the theme too perfectly.”

Gob laughed. “ _Perfect_.”

“So, after the caprices, we’ll have an intermission, then the second half is all things that have been influenced by him,” Tony said. “So, I’m guessing you want to end with Liszt?”

“Definitely,” Gob said.

“Okay…so maybe Brahms first, then the Ysaÿe duet, then the Liszt? I know that’s a lot in a row…” Tony frowned again. 

“I’ll be fine,” Gob said. At Tony’s doubtful look, he countered, “You’re thinking of playing all 24 caprices and you’re worried about _me_ playing for _maybe_ an hour in a row?” Tony laughed; he had a point. “Besides, the duets we have right now are mostly just violin with accompaniment. Ysaÿe did a better job finding something interesting for piano than Paganini—”

“Hey, Paganini did a good job for someone who never played piano,” Tony said defensively. “And that was the style at the time, even with orchestral music.”

Gob rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t insulting him. But, _anyways_ , the Ysaÿe is still a lot simpler for me, so it’s almost like a break.”

After a moment, Tony nodded. “Okay. We’ll have time to change some things around if we need to anyways.” He wrote that all down on the sheet and said, “So, encores are all that’s left.” Gob nodded and Tony leaned back in his chair. “Normally a Paganini caprice is a go-to for violin encores. That or Bach,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the idea. “That doesn’t really fit the theme, though.”

“Yeah…and it’s hard to come back from Liszt,” Gob said with a frown. An encore didn’t _have_ to be flashy, but those were always Gob’s favorites. Obviously.

“You could maybe start the program with Liszt and then end with the Brahms and fit in another Liszt encore,” Tony said. At Gob’s look, he said, “Hey, the Brahms is still a good closer and surprisingly flashy for him. Didn’t you say Clara called it ‘Witch’s Variations’ or something? She definitely didn’t say anything like that about Liszt—”

“Yeah, because she hated Liszt because he was friends with Wagner. Which, hey, how could he help that? Wagner ended up becoming his son-in-law!” Gob said just as defensively as Tony got earlier. “Besides, he actually dedicated the Paganini études to Clara anyways, so she’s just extremely ungrateful.”

“I think there was more to it than that, but, okay, you can end with the Liszt version.”

“Thank you.”

After a pause, Tony brought up, “I thought you liked Clara Schumann, though; don’t you say that your niece is the next Clara?”

“I do like Clara, but she's, like, Clara 2.0. The improved version,” Gob said. “…Well, she’s maybe not quite as dedicated and hard-working as Clara, but she also doesn’t think women can’t compose like Clara did—you know, despite composing herself.” A beat later he added, “There aren’t a lot of female artists to choose from; give me a break.” Tony nodded in agreement and the two of them fell silent as they tried to think of possible encores.

Finally, Tony suggested, “…Maybe instead of doing separate ones, we can do something together at the very end?”

At first, Gob looked at him like he was crazy. Giving up a solo like that? Come _on_ …But seeing as he _was_ going to be playing for a full hour and all, maybe that wasn’t the worst idea.

“…I guess it would be a good way to end it,” Gob said slowly and thoughtfully.

“Yeah. And it could parallel how we started the show together,” Tony said with a nod.  

“It just needs to be something cool, though."

“ _Definitely_ ,” Tony agreed. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I wanna go _all out_ for this. It’s the last recital of the season and it’s our last recital here—at least as artists-in-residence.”

Gob nodded, though a sense of dread crept up into his stomach. He knew Anna was going to find him stuff to do afterwards, but knowing that his constant source of performing was ending was…well, scary.

And the possibility that this could be his last few months with Tony around was even scarier. And _extremely_ depressing. He was pretty sure they could remain friends even if they weren’t coworkers, but it was definitely going to be harder.

But Gob didn’t want to think about that right then.

“What’s your definition of ‘all out’?” Gob asked. Teasing a little, he suggested, “It’s not something from your rock band days, is it?”

“Would you be offended if it was?” Tony asked. At Gob’s raised eyebrow, Tony leaned forward in his chair. “Look, Paganini was associated with the devil. Who’s to say we can’t work in a bit of Black Magic into that?”

Gob stared at him. “…You want to reunite your band for it?”

“God, no; they all hated me for leaving them to go to grad school.”

“I can’t blame them; you _did_ go to UCLA.”

“I walked right into that one,” Tony muttered. “But, no, I mean, we were called that— _they_ were called that—because there were elements of magic in the show. And nothing quite says devil like some smoke and magic, don’t you think?” Gob looked doubtful, and Tony said, “Come on! Paganini, Liszt, even Clara—they completely changed performance practices! Paganini leaned into the devil thing by wearing all black and being all mysterious.”

That was true. “…And I guess Liszt changed the piano angle because he looked more dramatic in profile,” Gob added.

“Exactly,” Tony said excitedly. “We’re playing the music of, let’s be honest, drama queens.” Gob snorted at that. “We might as well honor them by making this as dramatic as possible.”

Slowly, Gob started to smile. “I _did_ really love magic when I was a kid,” Gob said. “We even did a unit on it for gym.”

“…Who’s Jim?”

“Wha—no, like phys ed.” Gob started to laugh as Tony insisted he was kidding. “Anyways, I don’t remember, like, _anything_ from it except the song I used for my act. And I remember getting two weeks detention for accidentally setting a basketball net on fire.” He was still kinda bitter about it; everyone else but his coach seemed to think it was cool. 

“…Well, I don’t think we need to do fires,” Tony said. “But maybe some smoke, like at the beginning and the end.”

While he was intrigued, Gob ended up frowning. “I got detention for smoking, too.”

* * *

“You were amazing tonight.”

Gob smiled his crooked smile. “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”

“I _loved_ it,” Gary insisted. “Who knew you could do all of that with just one hand?”

“I guess Ravel did,” Gob teased, making Gary playfully shove him.

Honestly, it was just nice to have some light banter going on between the two of them. After telling him about Steve and Eve and everything, Gob had been certain they’d break up. But, surprisingly, Gary had taken it very well and they both agreed it would be some time before Gary would meet Steve. They needed Gary to be a more permanent fixture in his life before he introduced him to this kid he was still trying to get to know anyways. It was why Gary was at the first of the two concerts whereas the Bluths, Steve, and Eve were coming on the second night. Plus, it _was_ still a little weird to have any sort of date-like thing with Michael, as in Gary’s boss, around.

But, anyways, after that bumpy road, things seemed to be getting better. Well, okay, Christmas was a little rough, since Gary had gotten him a _piano key necktie_ , and, god, after _years_ of getting lame, piano-related gifts, particularly piano key neckties, it took all of Gob’s strength to pretend that he loved it and he even wore it to the Bluth Christmas Party—much to his siblings’ amusement—and to the orchestra rehearsal he had after that—much to Tony’s amusement—instead of setting it on fire like he did the last time he got a piano key necktie, back when he was 16, you know, that time his dad called him a flamer on Christmas Day, which was obviously _such_ a great memory to have brought up—

But, no. It was fine. Gary had tried, and Gob managed to convince him he liked it before finding a way to get rid of it without hurting Gary’s feelings. And, hey, at least Gary seemed to love the CDs Gob got him, so that was a bonus, since Gob was never the best at choosing the right gifts.

Anyways, bumpy road or not, there they were, official boyfriends at the first official concert of the New Year where Gob had just officially debuted his version of Ravel’s _[Piano Concerto for the Left Hand](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJTUUKAdZDU)_.

It was all very _official_.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, though. I’d say you have first-hand knowledge of the things I can do with my fingers,” Gob said with a flirty smirk. Despite the implication of his words, he was gentle with his touch as he let his fingers of his right hand intertwine with Gary’s, their hands partially hidden from sight as they stood at the bar.

Gary raised an eyebrow in intrigue, giving Gob’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, well, you managed to take my breath away in a very different way tonight,” he said, stepping in just the slightest bit closer, but not so close that it looked _too_ suspicious. He knew Gob was a bit concerned about how out he could be in public.

But, well, Gob knew they wouldn't fire him, not just because they liked him, but because Jason and Tim were also gay. And maybe he was just getting tired of constantly hiding it to everyone when he got to see his straight orchestra friends bring their girlfriends and wives to everything without a second thought. So, feeling a bit reckless, Gob stepped in even closer, Gary raising his eyebrows in pleasant surprise.  

“We should get some more of that first-hand experience sometime,” Gob said quietly, his voice low. “You know…you, me…maybe _both_ my hands…”

“I like the sound of that,” Gary agreed. His nose crinkled a little as he smiled, and Gob very briefly crinkled his nose back and gently bumped it against Gary’s.

He knew it was stupid how it made his heart race so fast, but after years of doing very little PDA outside of gay clubs, it still made him nervous. Enough so that, when he pulled away and saw Tony, he immediately called him over to distract himself.

“Hey!” Gob greeted him. He looked between Tony and Gary and asked, “Did you guys ever officially meet?”

“You were at Gob’s birthday party, right?” 

“Yeah,” Tony said, very clearly remembering walking in on the two of them making out, “I’m Tony.”

“Gary.”

The two of them shook hands and Tony said, “Gob’s told me a lot about you.”

Gary smiled up at his boyfriend and said, “Hopefully only good things.”

“Of course,” Gob said, stepping in a little closer, his hand unlacing from Gary’s to rest on the small of his back. With their backs towards the bar and Tony in front of them, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell.

“Yeah, including that great Christmas present you got him,” Tony said, a wide grin on his face.

“And I _also_ told him how upset I was when it got stained by that pen,” Gob said, shooting Tony a warning look.

Tony looked confused for a moment, but then he nodded and played along. “Oh, yes, right. The one time a musician uses a pen instead of a pencil, huh?”

“I was filling out some checks, not writing notes in my scores. Hence the pen,” Gob said tightly, his eyes narrowed.

“Well, we’ll look into getting you a new one in the future,” Gary said with a shrug, not really following the whole discussion.

Before Tony could try to tease the subject more, Gob asked, “So, are there any approved snacks this time?” At Gary’s look, Gob explained, “Tony’s family owns and runs a bakery so he’s a total snob about any baked goods.”

“It’s still all store-bought cookies, so, no, they aren’t good,” Tony said with a scoff.

“What kinds?” Gob asked, craning his neck to try to see what they had.

“The usual: chocolate chip, sugar, snickerdoodle.”

“Any oatmeal raisin?”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, a whole bunch, since no one’s touching them.”

Gob looked over hopefully. “Do you think they’ll let me take home the extras?”

Tony tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “…Why would you want to take them home?”

“Because oatmeal raisin is the best cookie,” Gob said. “ _Duh_.”

“…What?” Tony just stared at him, and even Gary had to stare back.

“Hey, oatmeal raisin is a legitimate choice for a favorite cookie,” Gob said indignantly. This was a debate he had been in with _several_ people over the years. “Why does everyone act like it’s weird?”

“…Gob, I worked at a bakery for the first eighteen years of my life, I can make cookies better than _anyone_ I know—including my parents and siblings, yes—and you are _literally_ the _first person_ I’ve met who says that’s their _favorite_ cookie,” Tony said, shaking his head slightly. “It’s bizarre.”

“Don’t you like them?”

“I _do_ , but they aren’t my _favorite_ ,” Tony said. “They’re just a weird one to be a favorite. Oatmeal of any kind is a weird favorite to have.”

“Yeah? And what’s your favorite?”

“Chocolate chip, obviously. It’s a classic.”

“You mean unoriginal, _Vivaldi_.”

“Shut up, Handel.”

“That’s a dumb one. His birth name was Georg, not _George_ —”

“I love oatmeal raisin cookies,” Gary interrupted. Gob smiled at that before smirking at Tony in victory. “They aren’t my favorite, but I do love them.”

“Well, you two might be the perfect couple, then,” Tony scoffed.

Gary gave Tony a look that Gob didn’t notice before turning to him. “I’ll go get us some cookies. Can you get me another glass of chardonnay?” Gob nodded and Gary gave him a smile before heading towards the opposite end of the hall.

“So. You two seem to be getting along well,” Tony said as Gob ordered Gary another glass of white wine, “You know, not counting lies about ties.”

“That’d be a great name for a band,” Gob said. Tony snorted and Gob sighed, taking the glass of wine from the bartender. “Look, he _tried_ and after the Steve stuff, I don’t wanna make it harder than it needs to be.” He paused and admitted, “Though I still can’t believe he’d think I’d wear something so tacky.”

“Seeing how you dress, I’d believe it,” Tony said. Tony ignored Gob’s glare and continued, “I’d be more concerned about the wine choice, personally. I never got the point of _white_ wine—”

“Shit,” Gob said suddenly as he saw two people approaching them. He did his best to paint on a smile. “Mom! Buster! What are you doing here? I thought you were coming tomorrow.”

“We had a change of plans,” Lucille said. She completely ignored Tony at first to greet Gob with a kiss on either cheek and told him he did great.

“Thanks, mom,” he said, trying not to sound nearly as nervous as he felt. “I’m glad you liked it. And thanks for coming.” She greeted Tony as well, as they had met a few times over Gob’s residency, and she even offered him a rare smile before Gary came back, taking the glass from Gob’s hand with a _thank you_.

Gob’s whole body froze as Lucille’s lips pursed. “…And who’s your friend, Gob? He looks familiar.”

“This is Gary,” Gob said, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his throat. It was making speaking difficult. “He works at the Bluth Company. He’s the Office Assistant.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Gary,” Lucille said, giving Gary a once over.

“Nice to meet you again, Mrs. Bluth,” Gary said, offering his hand. She shook it, the curious, inspecting look not leaving her eyes. Gob could see Gary getting nervous himself from that look, and apparently, Gary decided to avoid looking at her by introducing himself to Buster.

Finally, Lucille took her judgmental eyes off of Gary and looked back at Gob. “I can’t believe my son only has one hand…I hope the regular concertgoers only had to pay for half a ticket,” she said. While the comment might have seemed bitchy out of context, her laugh afterwards made it clear she was just trying to make a joke. After a moment, Gob started to laugh nervously along with her.

“Yeah. Very funny,” Gob said, forcing a smile on his face. “Do you want a drink before you go?”

She wanted one. Obviously. But she didn’t leave right away like Gob had hoped. Instead, she mingled with some of her upper-crust friends in the crowd, bringing Gob along with her whenever possible to show him off. It seemed like every time he had a moment or two alone with Gary, his mom would drag him back over to someone else.

Gob had a feeling she was doing it on purpose.

Eventually, she left with Buster in tow, and Gob left with Gary a few minutes later to take him back to his apartment. Once they got there, they sat for a moment and Gary turned to him.

“So, your mom…” Gob held back a sigh, already sure he didn’t like where this was going, “She called me a friend and you didn’t correct her.”

Gob stayed quiet for a long time, trying to think of the best thing to say. Finally, Gob said, “…It’s complicated. I don’t know how to talk to her about this.”

Gary raised his eyebrows. “Well, she knows you’re gay, right?”

“I don’t know _how_ since _I_ never told her, but she knows.” At Gary’s doubtful look, Gob said, “She’s never _said_ it, but she’s talked _around_ it a lot. Like, saying I’d love San Francisco before I moved there because it’s full of ‘artistic’ people like me.”

After a moment, Gary seemed to agree that was evidence enough. “You know that you’re a grown man now, so you _can_ tell her that you have a boyfriend.” Gary took his hand, trying to reassure him.

“…We just don’t talk about that stuff.” Gob shook his head. “We talk about music and alcohol and TV. Or we’ll talk about our favorite plots on _Dynasty_ ; we _loved_ that show when it was on the air.” Gary made a face and Gob frowned. “Do you not like _Dynasty_?”

“Well, not really, no,” Gary admitted. Before Gob could defend it, Gary continued, “But I was mainly thinking that if you two watched _Dynasty_ together, she _definitely_ knows you’re gay.”

* * *

When March rolled around, with the Paganini concert getting closer and closer, Gob was devoting most of his time at work, between his orchestral duties and concerto solos, to working on his two big pieces for the recital. Tony was doing the same with his caprices, but because he had so much more orchestral duties, he didn’t have much time at work to meet with Gob for their duets. So, really, it made perfect sense to start rehearsing the duets outside of work.

Plus, it meant no one could find out about their secret, fucking _awesome_ encore pieces.

Obviously, they had their first outside rehearsal at Gob’s place since he had a piano. Tony put down his violin case on the ground of Gob’s living room and looked around as Gob got them some water before they started. “Is that your nephew? George Michael?” Tony asked, looking at a picture that hung on the wall. The picture showed a younger Gob holding a young child on his lap in front of a cheap upright piano. Gob was holding onto the toddler’s hand, pointing his little finger to try to get him to play a note.

“Yeah, he got me that as a Christmas gift,” Gob called from the kitchen.

“Does he play?”

“Oh, _god_ no,” Gob snorted. “He was supposed to be the Chopin to my Liszt, but I think he turned out even worse at piano than Michael.” Gob laughed at the thought and came back out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. “At least Maeby’s my Clara Schumann.”

Tony nodded, yet again ignoring the fact that Clara hated Liszt by the end of their lives, and instead took the glass of water and looked around. He hadn’t gotten a good look when he helped Michael get Gob home, which was the only other time he had been over. He laughed a little at the sight of the Liszt poster and smiled at some of the other cute family photos. The piano was nice, and Gob had told him it was the first one he had played on, so that was pretty cool ~~.~~

On the wall next to the piano, there were a whole bunch of album covers used as decoration. While Tony spotted Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel and some classical music in the mix, there was definitely a dominant theme to the rest of the albums.

“I take it you like Queen,” Tony said.

“They’re the best band of all time, so, _yeah_ , I like them.”

“I can’t imagine any other band that could compete with that statement,” Tony said with a nod. “I always wanted to be Freddie Mercury when I was a kid. Hell, I still kinda want to be him.”

“Same!” After a moment, Gob added, “I mean, I like to think I _am_ like him, at least. Just, you know, white. And with better teeth.”

“Well, you have some fake teeth, right? So they’re kinda messed up like his were,” Tony pointed out. “You just need to see if you can actually grow a mustache.”

“True. And I _totally_ had his hair in high school, like just a bit shorter than _A Night at the Opera_ era hair, more like his _Jazz_ era hair. And I have a fake mustache, since I’ve dressed up as him for Halloween, like, twenty years in a row. I’ve done every era, but I normally stick with Live Aid or _Jazz_ era—my ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ costume is pretty hot.”

Tony suddenly laughed. “Oh, god, that song’s super piano heavy, and those lyrics—totally your theme song.”

“I know, right?” Gob said. “Michael and Lindsay won’t let me play it anymore, though.”

“What? Why not?”

Gob rolled his eyes. “It’s stupid. I got a bit too drunk at a party and I guess my performance of that song that night freaked them out and now I’m not allowed to sing or play it in their presence.”

“What could’ve freaked them out that much?” Tony asked.

Gob crossed his arms and looked at his _Jazz_ album cover. “I don’t know.” After a moment, he admitted, “Probably because the whole night was a disaster…I had just broken up with my first boyfriend, so…” He shrugged. “I was kinda crazy.”

“That makes sense. Break-ups are hard.”

“Yeah…” Gob shrugged and said, “Whatever. Someday I’ll perform it or blast it again and they can deal.” With that, he sat down at the piano and asked, “‘[Cantabile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsFJS4I_05E)’ first?”

After they ran through their duets—well, honestly, they were more like violin solos with piano accompaniment until they got to the encores, but whatever—Gob got some beer for the two of them. When he left the kitchen, he found Tony looking at a picture Gob had on his bookcase. It was a picture from years and years ago, one that Michael had taken on his family’s first visit to San Francisco. Gob and Seth had taken them to Fisherman’s Wharf so they could enjoy the super tourist-y stuff. Seth was in the middle holding baby George Michael, and Gob and Tracey were laughing on either side of him; Gob couldn’t tell you what had cracked them up so much, but it was definitely genuine laughter.

“This is a cute picture,” Tony said when he noticed Gob had come back. “Is that Seth?”

“Yeah, back when we were dating,” Gob said. “And he’s holding George Michael—he really _did_ always love kids—and that’s Tracey, Michael’s…yeah.”

Tony nodded with a frown. “She looks sweet.”

“She was,” Gob confirmed as he handed Tony a beer. Tony took it and they went to sit down on the couch. “It’s probably why he hasn’t really moved on from her until now.”

“Oh, yeah, he had a date at the last recital,” Tony said with a nod. “That Sally person?”

“Stickwell?” Gob snorted. “Yeah. He was, like, _obsessed_ with her in high school; he’d just get too nervous to actually _do_ anything about it. He’s like that with, like, every girl. He thinks too much and won’t let himself be happy,” he said. “But, yeah, it’s nice to see him actually move on…though her dad is kinda his company’s direct rival, so it’s a little weird.” Another beat later, he added, “And I never really liked her...”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you like her? She seems nice enough.”

“She’s kinda as bitchy as my mom when she gets going,” Gob said. “Plus, she was always in competition with Lindsay over popularity things and I never liked how she brought Lindsay’s nose job into it—like, come on, she couldn’t help it that she had a beak that needed to be fixed so she could look fucking _normal_.” Gob paused and quickly added, “Don’t tell Lindsay I told you that; she still gets really weird about her nose. Probably because it _was_ really weird.” Tony nodded; he knew a fair amount of girls who got nose jobs in high school, so he actually wasn’t that surprised.

“But, whatever, it’s time for him to move on. I mean, even _I’ve_ slept with more women than him, and I haven’t slept with a girl since, well, Eve.” Tony laughed and shook his head; yes, even _he_ had heard about that many times at this point. Gob chose the weirdest things to be competitive about with Michael.

“Yeah. I can’t imagine moving on from that is easy, though. I mean, even with my brother…” Tony sighed heavily. “Deaths are hard.”

Gob nodded with slight hesitation. He didn’t know how much Tony wanted to actually talk about it, so Gob never brought it up, but he’d been curious. After a moment, Gob finally asked, “What was his name?”

“ _Daniele_ ,” Tony said, using the Italian pronunciation. “We all just called him Daniel, except for my mom’s parents; they clung onto the Italian stuff as much as possible.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Yeah. He lucked out compared to me and my little brother—did I ever tell you my younger brother is also a twin called Michael? I think they’re even around the same age,” Tony said with a slight laugh. Gob laughed a little too; how did they happen to have _that_ in common?

“Michael’s not that bad of a name, though. It’s got nothing on yours, _Vivaldi_ ,” Gob teased.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Except my brother’s name is short for _Michelangelo_ ,” Tony said, ending with the perfect Italian pronunciation of the name. “It made him _really_ hate the Ninja Turtles.” Gob couldn’t help but laugh at that, and Tony joined in as well.

Once they fell silent, Gob had another sip of beer before asking, “How did it happen?” When Tony hesitated, Gob quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tony said, even if he had a slightly strained look on his face. Slowly, he explained, “…A few years back, he…he killed himself.”

Gob’s blood ran cold. Of all the answers he expected to get, he never even _thought_ about that one. He didn’t even know what to say, but Tony didn’t seem to expect a response.

“He’d always been… _unstable_. Mentally, emotionally…He tried in high school, obviously unsuccessfully. I was only nine, so I didn’t understand at the time; I just thought he had accidentally cut—” Tony shook his head, not wanting to continue that story.

“But he finally got on the right medicine and started therapy. He moved out to LA on a whim and the sun seemed to help, too. And he got married, found a new therapist there, got a job…he seemed happy. Part of why I chose UCLA was to be near him; he was always my hero, you know? He was my big brother and I wanted to be like him.”

Despite not really getting it, Gob nodded since it seemed like the right thing to do.

“I still don’t really know what happened,” Tony admitted. “I think he stopped taking his meds at some point, since he probably thought he was better. But, well, that shit isn’t really something that _stays_ better if you stop taking your meds. And one day I…got the call. I was supposed to do a big performance, but, well…family comes first.”

Gob watched Tony with concern, not really sure what to say or do. He really had no idea what it was like to lose someone he was close to like that. The thought of losing Michael or Lindsay or Buster like that…god, it made him feel sick to his stomach. Even losing Tracey had been hard for him. And having to choose between a funeral or a performance? That made the situation sound so much worse.

And just the idea of someone actually doing that, going _through_ with a plan…Gob had, you know, felt _something_ like that a few times—he was sure everyone did—but actually _doing_ it? _God_.

“I’m so sorry,” Gob said, since he wasn’t sure what else to say.

Tony nodded. “Yeah…it was really rough. Sometimes it still is.” He had a sip of beer and looked pensive. “It made all of us big advocates for therapy. My baby sister, Pip, actually majored in psychology after all of that happened and got her masters and is working as a therapist. I’m really proud of her.” Gob smiled softly as Tony did as well. “I’m glad she didn’t let it bring her down and make bad choices…” Tony zoned out for a moment, a weird look on his face that Gob was pretty sure was a bad thing.

Thankfully, he snapped out of it and said, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring the whole mood down.”

“It’s fine; I asked,” Gob said. “And, hey, you listened to me rant and had to see me drunk which, like, _never_ happens anymore.”

Tony laughed, only partially forcing it out to break the tension. “Yeah, how _is_ your family’s tolerance so high?”

“I’m one-hundred percent sure my mom drank throughout all the pregnancies,” Gob said simply. “Plus, I’ve had access to the liquor cabinet since high school. Well, they gave me official access back then, but I snuck sips of drinks since I was, like, at least twelve. Probably younger. After all, I used to make my mom’s breakfast martini and her _Dynasty_ drink.”

“That’s a little terrifying,” Tony said honestly.

Gob shrugged. “I guess. There were also all the parties in high school and college. And I did some jobs where drinking helped, so my tolerance just grew.”

“Waiting tables definitely goes better when you drink,” Tony said with a nod.

Gob laughed. “Yeah, definitely. But not just those jobs. Piano bars, karaoke bars…definitely all the strip joints.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “I’m guessing you weren’t accompanying the dancers.”

“I own a _lot_ of tearaway pants.”

Tony just shook his head and had some more beer. He _really_ didn’t want to think about Gob taking off his clothes.

* * *

After screwing up everything with Sally and the whole Maggie thing, Michael really had no interest hanging out around couples. So, after months of Gob stopping by the office to pick them up for their weekly lunches, and after months of walking in on his brother being some level of “cute” with his boyfriend, Michael decided it was best to meet Gob at the orchestra for a little while.

Gob had agreed to meet him outside, but Michael knew better than to expect him to remember what time it was. Michael parked and went inside, finding his office much easier than he had in the past. He expected to hear Gob playing something when he got to his office door, but, instead, he heard talking, laughing—or maybe it was _giggling_?

Confused, Michael knocked on the door before entering, only to find Gob and Tony sitting together on the piano bench, looking at some music. And, yeah, that just confused him even more.

As soon as they saw him, Gob and Tony quickly rushed to cover up the sheet music and Michael raised an eyebrow. Tony explained, “Sorry, we're writing some of our own arrangements for the encores for the final recital and they’re _top secret_.”

“Top secret,” Gob agreed. A split second later, Gob excitedly asked, “But we can tell Michael, right? He won’t tell anyone!”

“We can’t! We don’t want to ruin the surprise!”

Gob whined, “But I want to tell _someone_.”

Tony gave him a look. “It’ll be cooler if they don’t know what’s coming.”

After a moment, Gob grumbled, “Fine. We’ll keep it a surprise.” Tony patted his head and Gob playfully pushed his arm away.

Tony stood up and grabbed his un-opened violin bag and pulled a tin out of another bag he brought with him. “By the way, I was stress-baking—”

“Why are you stressing out? You sound great on everything, and we still have, like, two months,” Gob said.

“I just have to stress-bake every now and then,” Tony said simply. “It reminds me of home—in a good way.” He gave the tin to Gob and said, “Anyways, I thought you might enjoy these.”

Gob’s eyes widened as he opened the tin, his mouth falling open. “Oatmeal raisin cookies? For real?”

“Yeah, I had some raisins to get rid of,” Tony said.

Gob quickly bit into one and moaned. “These are so good, holy shit,” Gob said, quickly finishing up his cookie. “Michael, you need to try one.”

“I’m a normal person, so no thank you,” Michael said. “…No offense,” he said towards Tony, “I just hate raisins.”

“Nah, it’s cool. He’s a _freak_ for liking those the most.” Tony shrugged his violin bag onto his shoulder. “I made a ton of sugar cookies I gave out during orchestra rehearsal, but I figured I could make you your own special batch. Cookies were always my specialty back home.”

With that he left, Gob waving as he stuffed another cookie in his mouth. Michael watched with raised eyebrows. There was no way anyone _ever_ had extra raisins lying around.

And he wasn’t sure that scene was any less couple-y than seeing Gob with Gary.

* * *

“Can I ask you something?” Once Lindsay nodded, Michael quietly continued, “Do you think that Tony might be… _gay_?”

Lindsay looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Tony Wonder?” She looked thoughtful and said, “Well, that would explain why he didn’t make a move on me…” She nodded after a moment, “Yeah, I could see it. Why?”

Once he confirmed they were alone, he started by telling her about how Tony had looked at Gob when they took him home after he got hammered.

“I think you need more to go off of than him worrying about his drunken friend,” Lindsay said. “You know Gob takes a lot to get drunk, and when he does it’s _scary_. Don’t you remember The Party Incident?”

“Of _course_ I remember The Party Incident; I _still_ can't listen to that song. But this was different from a friendly look,” Michael insisted. “He’s acting _weird_ around him. And he made him _cookies_. A special batch just for Gob, no one else. And every time I’ve been to the orchestra for lunch, Tony’s in Gob’s office and they’re not practicing; they’re just talking and laughing.”

“Well, even _if_ he’s gay and/or interested in Gob, it doesn’t really change anything,” Lindsay shrugged. “Gob’s happy with Gary and you know he doesn’t date musicians anymore, not since Seth.”

Michael frowned. “I’m not sure Gob’s as happy with Gary as he is when he’s around Tony. With Gary, it’s cute stuff and all, but with Tony…it’s different. He’s not even stopping by to pick Gary up after work anymore like he used to.”

“Well, yeah, because then he’d have to explain why he isn’t wearing the tie,” Lindsay said with a laugh.

Okay, Michael had to laugh; they had made sure to get a lot of pictures of Gob in that tie at the party. “But, seriously, I think Gob might be interested in Tony.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He’s _always_ talking about him and every time I go to the orchestra now, they’re together. They have all these weird, private jokes. And you can’t tell me you didn’t notice them spending, like, the whole reception together after the last concert.”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “Gob’s allowed to have a friend outside of the family and Seth. You know that, right?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I know that. _Obviously_. But how they talk and everything…it’s _different_. It’s like how he used to talk with Seth—and _about_ Seth.”

Lindsay pursed her lips thoughtfully. Finally, she said, “You know what I think?” Michael nodded at her encouragingly. “I think you’re just focusing on Gob’s love life instead of your own because you screwed yourself over on the whole Sally thing.” Michael rolled his eyes. “You can’t be satisfied with ruining your own relationships, so you’re trying to find a way to meddle with Gob’s.”

Before Michael could respond, Gob walked through the front door and into the kitchen. “Hey, whatcha talking about?”

After a second too long, Michael finally said, “Maggie Lizer.”

“You’re not going to try with her a _third_ time, are you?” Gob asked with a laugh. “I get you wanting to try when you thought she was having your kid but _come on_. You should’ve just stuck with Stickwell you know.”

“ _Sitwell_ ,” Michael corrected.

“Not the way you talked about her, _Mr. Three Times_ ,” Gob joked, making Lindsay laugh. Michael had bragged about tying his record a  _lot_.

There was a small chime and Gob looked down at his phone to read a text message. Once he opened it, he grinned and laughed, looking very happy and, at least in Lindsay’s opinion, in love.

“Ooo, did someone get a text from their _boyfriend_?” Lindsay asked, shooting a look at Michael.

Gob looked up in slight surprise, like he forgot he wasn’t alone, and said, “Oh, no. It was just a dumb text from Tony.” Michael shot Lindsay a look back that went unnoticed by their older brother. “We have this joke going…it’s stupid.” Gob laughed before explaining, “So, like, Tony’s actually not his real first name.”

“Tony’s normally short for Anthony, yes,” Michael said.

“But his name isn’t Anthony. It’s _Antonio_ ,” Gob said, putting on an exaggerated accent to say the name. “And it’s funny, because he plays violin, and Antonio Vivaldi wrote _The Four Seasons_ and a bunch of other violin music. It’s why he didn’t want to go by Antonio professionally. So, I started calling him Vivaldi to annoy him, and he did some research and found out about one of Liszt’s students, a composer named Henri Gobbi.” Gob pronounced it the correct way as _Gaw-bee_ , but he explained, “Since it’s spelled G-O-B-B-I, Tony likes to think it’s actually pronounced like Gobie, so he calls me that or Henri now. It’s funny.”

Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “He calls you _Gobie_?”

Gob shrugged. “He's not the first person to call me that, but he has the best reason to call me that, because, like I said, he was a student of Liszt, which is _totally_ me. Cooler than being Vivaldi.”

While Lindsay looked thoughtful, Gob grabbed a drink from the fridge and Michael observed, “Antonio’s an interesting name.”

“Yeah, he’s Italian. Well, half-Italian, half-German, but, like, German and Jewish,” Gob said. “His family sounds really interesting. And _huge_ —he had _six siblings_ growing up. I can never remember all of his siblings’ names since they’re all weird and Italian, but his younger brother is also a twin named Michael and I think he’s around your age. Weird, huh?” Gob laughed and continued, “But _his_ Michael’s name is short for _Michelangelo_. Poor kid. Imagine being named after a ninja turtle.”

“…You know that the turtles were all named after artists, right? So, he probably wasn't named after the turtle. You know that, right?” Michael asked. He really hoped his brother knew that and that he was just joking. He _had_ to be joking. Right?

Whether he did or didn’t know that, Gob ignored the question. “I can’t imagine growing up in a family of seven kids. That sounds so insane. No wonder he ended up on the opposite side of the country from his family.”

“Well, you did, too,” Michael added.

By the way, for the sake of his sanity, he had chosen to believe that Gob was just joking about the turtle thing.

That statement made Gob smile again. “Yeah. We’re weirdly, like…the _same_ in so many ways. It’s kind of crazy.” He leaned against the fridge and shrugged, “I don’t know the last time I met someone who just… _gets_ it…I don’t know, maybe not since Seth? But Tony’s family sounds as weird as ours, and Seth’s family is _so_ not like ours. Tony’s family has to be crazy to have named him _Antonio Francesco Wunderlich_.”

Lindsay and Michael shared yet another look that went ignored by their brother.

After a moment, Michael said, “Middle names are kind of weird.” Gob gave him a funny look at the segue and Michael asked, “Do you know Gary’s?”

Gob continued to look at him in confusion. “…No? It’s not really something that comes up in conversation.”

“But it did for you and Tony?”

“Well, yeah?” Gob said, not getting the issue. “We were talking about names and stuff, and he said his name was worse than mine, and I needed to hear it to believe it.”

“It’s just kind of weird that you know Tony’s middle name and not your boyfriend’s,” Michael said simply.

Gob stared at Michael for a moment. “…I don’t think I even know your guys’ middle names.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lindsay asked. 

“Anyways,” Gob said, ignoring the question yet again, “Are you guys free next Saturday night?”

“Why?” Lindsay asked cautiously.

By the way, much like Michael, she chose to believe that Gob was just joking about the middle name thing. You know, for the sake of her sanity.

“I thought you guys might want to get some dinner with Agent Anna,” Gob answered with a grin.

“She’s coming to town?” Michael asked.

“She’s actually moving out here,” Gob said excitedly. “It's a really recent decision, like this past month. She’s looking at some places and we’re having dinner and she said she’d love to see Lindsay again and meet the rest of my family.” He paused and added, “Well, I don't want her to meet mom, at least not yet, though I think Anna could take her…and I don’t think Buster should meet her right now. With the whole… _thing_ …” All three of them stood uncomfortably for a moment, since none of them knew how to talk to their brother ever since he lost his hand. And it hadn't been easy to begin with when it came to Buster.

Eventually, both Lindsay and Michael snapped out of it and agreed to dinner. Gob had told Michael so many stories about her over the years, and she seemed to be Gob's closest female friend, so it seemed about time for him to meet her.

“Wait, so if she’s moving out here, does that mean you’re staying?” Michael asked.

Lindsay’s eyes widened a little. “Wow, yeah, I didn’t think about it—your residency’s almost up, isn’t it?”

“…Yeah, it is.” It was something Gob had found himself thinking about a lot. When he first came back, he had been so sure he’d go back to New York and get away from everyone again. But after over a year and a half being back, he realized that he hadn’t even thought about trying to escape in quite some time.

The three of them were silent for a moment. Finally, Gob said, “I mean…I have a piano studio now. And friends. And a boyfriend. And a _son_ …I could travel from here, too, I don’t _have_ to live in New York to do that.” After another thought, he added, “Dad’s not here, too, so that helps.”

He didn’t notice Michael quickly glancing over at a vent on the wall guiltily. “Um…yeah. True,” Michael said with a nod.

Gob nodded in thought. “I think I’ll probably stay here, yeah,” he said simply. He always managed to make big decisions like that pretty quickly. “Especially with Anna moving down here and everything; she can definitely find me more gigs on this coast—she already got me one for the summer in Seattle." After a beat, he added, "Oh, Lindsay, she’s recruited me as her wingman, so if you’re still trying that open marriage thing, I guess you can join us at this wine bar afterwards.”

" _Wine_ bar?  _You_?" Michael scoffed.

"Hey, I can be classy! After all, I play  _classical_ music," Gob pointed out. Michael rolled his eyes at the pun. "Anyways, Anna and I always get wine when we're together. Normally it's for a night at home, but it's our tradition. And Anna deserves a classy guy, not someone from some random straight bar."

“I thought she was married.” Lindsay had only met her a couple of times, but she was sure there had been a ring on her finger.

“Oh, no. She got divorced, like, _years_ ago,” Gob said. “She just wears the ring when she wants to keep guys away. You should come with us; it’ll be fun.”

After a moment of thought, Lindsay said, “Maybe I will."

“You don’t even know if you’re still trying an open marriage or not, do you?” Michael asked.

Lindsay gave her twin an annoyed look. “You should _really_ focus on your _own_ love life, Michael.”

* * *

Agent Anna turned out to be not at all what Michael had expected.

First off, she was younger than he thought. Gob had been her first major client, so that at least explained that. She was also really short and not at all intimidating at first glance, despite Gob’s insistence that she was ruthless when it came to getting him jobs. In fact, she was so small that, when Gob hugged her in greeting, he easily lifted her off the ground.

But the biggest surprise, at least for Michael, was just how attractive Anna was. How had Gob failed to mention that? He was gay, yeah, but _come on_ , he _had_ to realize that she was gorgeous, right? So gorgeous that, after she greeted Lindsay and she turned to him with a grin and teased that Gob had told her so much about him, he didn't know what to say.

Realizing he had been silent for too long, Michael finally blurted out, “Y-yeah, Michael, that’s me.” Gob was confused while Lindsay was amused as Michael offered his hand. “Michael Bluth.”

“Anna Mitchell,” Anna said back, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Michael said, their handshake lasting a bit longer than necessary. Michael removed his hand from hers suddenly and moved it to the back of his neck. “I, uh, hope Gob hasn’t said too many bad things about me.”

Anna laughed again as she sat down in the open chair between Michael and Gob, everyone else sitting as well. “Depends on what you consider bad.”

Michael laughed nervously and Gob said, “Yeah, I’ve only said true things. Like how you’ve only slept with four women.”

“It’s more than four now,” Michael corrected him, though he immediately regretted even staying on that immature subject in front of Gob’s very attractive friend.

“Still less than your gay brother,” Gob pointed out.

“And I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Anna said before Michael could say anything back.

Thankfully, a waiter came to take their drink orders, which helped move the subject off of how many women Michael had slept with.

“Double vodka martini,” Lindsay ordered.

“Scotch on the rocks,” Gob said. The order made Anna and Michael roll their eyes at the same time, which, in turn, made Lindsay smile.

“And I’ll have your best single malt _neat_ ,” Anna said, “As it _should_ be served.”

“Me, too,” Michael said.

Anna turned to Michael as the waiter left. “I’ve tried telling him for _years_ that you’re supposed to have it neat.”

“Me, too!” Michael said.

“Hey, I can drink however I want—and it’s a standard drink order!”

“Yes, it is standard, but you should accept the fact that you’re not drinking scotch right. You drink it neat; you don’t drink it with ice _or_ straight up,” Anna replied simply. As soon as Gob opened his mouth again, Anna held up her hand and added, “Yes, I know, you don’t do anything ‘straight’ anyways, and, no, before you say it, I’m _not_ being homophobic by ruining your joke.”

Lindsay and Michael laughed out loud at that, Michael’s laugh particularly loud, while Gob sulked.

“ _God_ , I am  _so_ glad you're moving out here,” Lindsay said.

Michael’s smile was wide and bright. “Me, too.”

* * *

Gob was never one to just sit and watch people talk; he normally wanted to be the center of attention. But as he had dinner, he found himself sitting back and watching Anna and Michael talk for literal hours.

It was… _weird_. Just plain _weird_. He had always joked with Anna that she was a lot like Michael, but he mainly thought of it in the way that Michael was serious-minded and business-y and worried about the family’s image. And, yeah, maybe he noticed they had the same sarcastic sense of humor and they had both given him a hard time for drinking scotch on the rocks—despite the fact he could outdrink both of them anyways—but he never thought they’d just click like they had.

The two of them dominated the conversation most of the night, their bodies starting to angle in each other’s direction more and more until, after they had finished eating, it was almost like Lindsay and Gob weren’t there. Michael kept asking about Anna’s life, all of which Gob had heard before, so he just watched as Anna talked about how she had tried playing music growing up and how her sister had always been so much better at it. She explained how her main experiences with classical music were her parents, who both played in amateur orchestras, and through ballet, since she danced her whole life. Gob looked over at Lindsay and caught her watching the two of them talk with amusement as Anna explained how she started as a double major in dance and economics at Northwestern until she got injured her sophomore year.

“I had to take a whole semester off from dancing, and I realized I liked the business classes I was taking. Plus, I didn’t want a career that could end from falling on ice. So, I ended up keeping dance as a minor and kept my other major. I took a gap year to figure out what I wanted to do—I even took the LSAT just in case—but then I decided to get my masters and I started managing some performers around Chicago before I got a job in New York,” Anna said. “You did business, too, right?” Anna asked Michael, apparently just as curious about him as he was curious about her.

“Right,” Michael said. “I, uh, actually did some law school, too. But then with my son being so young and my wife getting sick, I had to stop.”

Anna nodded, her eyes sympathetic. “What kind of law did you study? Real estate?”

“Maritime, actually.”

Gob, killing the mood in the way only he could, ended up saying, “You’d think it’d be entertainment law, because he’s always been an expert on law _and_ acting.” Lindsay laughed along with Gob.

Michael rolled his eyes. “I was in a production for extra credit in high school where I played a lawyer version of Peter Pan,” he explained to Anna.

“Really? I was in a production of _Peter Pan_ , too!” Anna and Michael smiled at each other and she continued, “The dance studio I went to growing up would always put on a final recital at the end of the school year that was one big story based on one classic or another. The more advanced students would audition for parts, and my senior year, I was one of the leads in _Peter Pan_.”

“Really? Who did you play?”

Raising an eyebrow, she said, “I’m barely five foot and I’m naturally blonde. Who do you _think_ I played?” Michael laughed with her. “It was a lot of fun. I got to twirl around a lot _en pointe_ and I got to die on stage and then be resurrected—but the clapping was part of a tap number thing.” She laughed at the memory before continuing, “I had the _best_ costume, basically like Tink’s in the Disney movie. I still bring it out for Halloween.”

“I bet you look great in that,” Michael said without thinking.

“I do,” Anna said, a small smirk on her face.

“Our Tinkerbell was just a spotlight,” Michael said. “I’m sure you were much more fun to watch.”

“Well, I was good enough to get into Northwestern’s dance program,” Anna reasoned. “But, for the record, you’re actually a lot cuter than the Peter in our production. Granted, he was played by a girl in ours, but still.” Michael sheepishly grinned and adjusted his tie, making Anna giggle.

Anna. As in Gob’s Agent Anna, his sarcastic best friend (of the female variety, at least), actually _giggled_.

As Michael and Anna kept talking, Lindsay and Gob made eye contact. She raised an eyebrow at Gob and gestured her head towards the door, as if asking if they should go and leave the two of them alone.

Gob felt majorly conflicted. On one hand, he loved both of them and wanted them to be happy. On the other hand, Michael had a huge tendency to overthink and ruin relationships. On yet another hand, Gob had a feeling Anna wouldn’t stand for that shit if he tried to pull anything like that. He also knew that, unlike that Jessie girl from the year before, Anna wouldn’t run some smear campaign against him if things _did_ go badly. And it wasn’t like leaving them alone for one night meant they were going to date for real or anything, right?

And he _had_ promised to help Anna out wingman-style…

“We should go,” Gob finally said.

Lindsay nodded in agreement. “Yeah, definitely.”

“So soon?” Anna asked. “It’s only—” she cut herself off when she looked at the time on her watch. It had gotten later than she realized. “…Oh,” she said. “I guess we _should_ go to that bar.”

“Actually, Gob has a date to get to. Right, Gob?” Lindsay said, giving Gob a significant look.

Gob took a moment to catch on, but when it clicked, he nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. Gotta…gotta go see Gary. I know we planned on the bar, but…I should go see him. Since it's so late.” Anna raised her eyebrows at that rather lame excuse.

“Yeah, and I should go check on my daughter,” Lindsay said.

“Maybe Michael could take you out instead,” Gob suggested.

Anna finally understood what was happening and let out a small breath of laughter. She smiled softly at Gob and said, “I think that’s a great idea.” She looked Michael up and down and asked, “What do you think?”

Michael looked a bit panicked at first, but, after a look at his siblings, he looked at Anna and nodded. “Yeah. I know a great wine bar, too."

“Great,” Anna said with a smile.

“Great,” Michael said, smiling back.

“Great," Gob said. "…And you guys can figure out the bill, right?” Michael shot his brother a dirty look before nodding; he hadn’t planned on paying for everyone, especially for all of Gob’s drinks, but he’d do it.

Anna stood up to give Lindsay and Gob hugs goodbye. When she hugged Gob, he quietly told her, "If you want to thank me, you know what kind of wine I like." While she rolled her eyes when she pulled away, she gave him a slight nod, as if to say she would follow through with that idea.

And with that, Gob and Lindsay left their brother with Anna. Once they were outside, Lindsay started humming the theme from _The Twilight Zone_ , which made them both laugh.

“God, that was _weird_ ,” Gob said.

“ _Very_.”

“I’ve _never_ seen her like that." It wasn't like she was  _mean_ all the time or anything, but she normally wasn't that smiley. And she definitely wasn't the giggling type. Gob shook his head and got in the car with Lindsay. “I guess we can still hit the bar if you want.”

Lindsay considered it for a moment. “Why not? If Michael can get someone _way_ out of his league, maybe I’ll finally get lucky, too.” Gob wrinkled his nose but started up his car. He didn’t feel like going home just yet.

 “I really hope Michael doesn’t shoot himself in the foot,” Lindsay sighed as Gob pulled out of the parking space.

“Yeah, me, too,” Gob said, his voice full of worry. “Or Anna’s foot, for that matter; her feet are already messed up enough from years of pointe.”

Lindsay laughed, assuming Gob was joking. But she looked over at him and realized he really  _did_ seem concerned about his friend’s feet possibly getting injured by bullets.

“…Okay, seriously, how the fuck am _I_ the only one of us not getting some?”

* * *

After a successful run of the [Ysaÿe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9d-9Zd1mLNQ) piece, Tony looked over at Gob and took his violin off his shoulder. “Ready for a break?” Tony asked.

“If you are,” Gob said.

Tony nodded and sat down on the couch. “Sorry that it’s kinda boring for you.”

“It’s fine; it’s not _that_ boring.” And, weirdly enough, it really _wasn’t_ boring. Gob was really enjoying playing with Tony and helping him make music, which was something he didn’t expect, especially with how resistant he was to the idea of playing with him when he first joined the orchestra. “Want anything to drink?” Gob went to his kitchen and said, “I have water, orange juice…tequila, vodka, whiskey—all the usual liquors, really—oh, and some wine my agent got me.”

“Is it red? I love red wine,” Tony called back.

Soon enough the cork was popped on the fancy merlot and the two of them sat on Gob’s couch, the wine bottle on the table.

“Damn, this is really nice stuff,” Tony said after he had a sip, his violin still on his lap. “What did you do to get this from your agent? And how can I get her to buy me some?”

Gob laughed. “Unless _your_ brother Michael is also available for a date, I don’t think you’re going to get anything like this from her.”

“He's not dating Sally anymore?”

It always amazed Gob how Tony seemed to remember everything so well. “Oh, no. That ended a while ago. He thought he had a baby with this one chick he slept with last year…it’s a long story.” Gob took a sip of his wine before saying, “But he’s getting along really well with Anna already. It’s weird. I always thought they were alike but seeing them together…that’s something else. It’s only been, like, a month, but I haven’t seen him so crazy about someone in so long.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Is she a lot like Tracey?”

“Not really,” Gob said. “Tracey was a lot… _nicer_. Anna’s nice, but Tracey was the girl next door, you know? Anna’s, like, five feet of intimidation. I think she could even scare my _mother_ when she gets into her vicious business mode. She’s, like, ice queen levels of blonde.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing, then,” Tony said. “Dating someone that isn’t from his past or like his wife.”

Gob nodded and watched as Tony put down his wine glass and started to take the shoulder rest off his violin. “You know, I took some violin lessons in college,” Gob said suddenly.

“Really?” Tony asked. “Why?”

“Just for one of my PMA brothers. He was a music ed major and he used me as his student for the orchestra skills class,” Gob said. Tony nodded and Gob asked, “Can I see it?” Tony immediately gave Gob a questioning, suspicious look, making Gob roll his eyes. “I’m not gonna break it, come on! I want to see what I remember.”

Tony still looked suspicious and weary, but once Gob put down his wine glass, he handed it over. _Carefully_.

Gob adjusted the shoulder rest and put the instrument on his left shoulder. With a bit of thought, he put three fingers down on the A string, which played a D. With some slight adjustments of his fingers to make sure he was in tune, he played the first part of a simple [Bach Minuet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NPpedwDMxE), one that everyone knew the tune to.

“…That’s all I remember,” Gob said with a laugh, handing it back to Tony.

“Wow, someone’s gonna steal my job, huh?” Tony replied, getting off the couch to put away his violin.

“Yeah, you better watch out,” Gob joked. “I know I’m super impressive.”

Once Tony got back on the couch, he admitted, “That actually _is_ pretty impressive for only a few lessons over a decade ago.” He remembered Michael saying something about Gob picking up instruments easy, but he had thought maybe his brother was just exaggerating out of pride, or it just seemed like he was that good to someone who didn’t play an instrument.

“I _was_ the best in the class,” Gob said with a smug grin. “All my friends used me for skills classes whenever they could. I ended up being taught clarinet, flute, trumpet, and, god, oboe. That was weird.”

“Oboes _are_ pretty weird,” Tony agreed, “both the instrument and the players.” They both laughed at that and Tony asked, “Did you learn anything outside of those skills classes?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve learned a lot of random instruments.” Sometimes Gob would find himself with a lot of energy and he found one of the best ways to spend it was by learning to play some new instrument. He always seemed to learn so much quicker during those times. “Besides the ones I did skills classes on, I’ve learned bass—I played in orchestra for a year, but I've learned electric since then—guitar—chords and stuff, not classical—and I can do a bit of ukulele, too, but it has to be at least a tenor, since the soprano is too small for my hands…Seth taught me some cello, and that was fun. I tried some viola, but the clef change is hard. Oh, and I _definitely_ rock the recorder.”

“You were one of those guys that went around trying to play people’s instruments, weren’t you?” Gob’s look was answer enough, and Tony laughed.

“Did you ever try any other instrument?” Gob asked.

“Just violin and guitar—classical and rock in both cases,” Tony said. “Well, and country, too.”

“I guess most violinists I know started young and just stuck with that,” Gob said and Tony nodded. It was a very competitive field, just like piano, and professionals on those tended to only play those instruments their whole lives.

“So, Mr. I’m-Good-At-Every-Instrument-Ever,” Tony teased, “if you could play any instrument as well as you play piano, what would it be? And why?”

“You’re really playing this game?”

“Come on, it’s a good question."

After a moment’s thought, Gob said, “I’d want to be a singer.”

“I said _instrument_.”

"I know, but it counts, right?” Gob said. “And, I mean, it’s the real answer of what I wish I could do.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. So, why singing?”

Gob had a sip of his wine as he put his thoughts together. “Well, for one, I want to be as close to Freddie Mercury as I can be. And for another, I’ve accompanied so many singers over the years, and there’s some _great_ stuff out there.” With a bit more hesitation, Gob admitted, “…Also, I pick up instruments easily, but singing?” He shrugged. “I don’t think my voice is _that_ bad, but it’s my weakest thing, music-wise. I've been able to learn everything else but that.”

After a moment, Tony said, "I really don't think your voice is bad or anything. I think your voice just isn’t suited for a lot of stuff out there because it’s so low. Like, maybe sing 'Piano Man' in a lower key next time.”

“Yeah, I had to sing the bass part in choir and everything.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “God, I _hated_ choir. All of us had to do at least one semester of it in undergrad.”

“I had to do it for _four_ semesters at mine,” Gob said with a roll of his eyes. “Having perfect pitch meant I became the human pitch pipe for them, except, unfortunately, no one ever blew me to get the starting note.” Tony snorted and Gob grinned. “But, fine, same question back at ya, Vivaldi.”

For whatever reason, Tony looked down at his hands rather shyly. “Total honesty?” Tony asked, looking back up at Gob. Once Gob nodded, Tony quietly laughed. “It would be piano.”

Gob couldn’t help but sit up a bit taller at that. “Really?”

“ _Yes_ , really,” Tony said. “I wanted to be Freddie Mercury, too, remember?”

“Well, why didn’t you learn it? It seems like everyone took lessons at some point.”

“Like we could’ve afforded a piano _or_ lessons. Or even have the _space_ for one,” Tony scoffed. “We had _nine people_ including my parents all living in one apartment; our living room could barely hold all of us, let alone a piano. I had to share a room with my brothers my whole childhood—I didn’t have my own room until my mid-twenties.”

“That sounds _terrible_.”

“Yeah, sometimes I even get a hotel room when I visit home just to avoid that.”

After a sip of his drink, Tony continued, “Maybe when I was older we could’ve gotten a piano, since things _did_ get better financially, but I was fully invested in violin by then. And it’s like what I tell the kids at the outreach programs; my grandfather made violins. He taught all of us, but I was the one who liked it most—and I was kind of his favorite, since I was named after him—so I kept doing it. And he gave me my very first violin.”

“Wow,” Gob said softly. He knew those were _not_ cheap.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I definitely showed up all those kids at school orchestra with their cheap, rented violins.” They both laughed before Tony continued, “I think I just liked it so much _because_ of how chaotic my home life was. Whenever I practiced at home, my parents and my older siblings made sure no one bugged me. I’d practice at my grandfather’s or at school, too…it was nice being the only one making noise for once.”

After a quiet moment, Tony cleared his throat and added, “And then I used my own money to buy my first guitar. I learned some classical stuff—by then I wanted to be Paganini—but I didn’t like it as much as violin, so I just started to teach myself rock songs instead.”

Gob nodded. “Yeah, I loved piano more than bass, so that was why I quit orchestra.” After a moment he confessed, “I also didn’t like having to stand to play.” Tony laughed and Gob said, “I _did_ eventually learn the bass part of ‘['39](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kE8kGMfXaFU)’, but years later. But I chose that since, you know, John Deacon played double bass on that.”

With his eyebrows raised, Tony admitted, “I actually didn’t know that. Impressive.” He looked over at the Queen section of Gob’s wall and smiled. “I own, like, every album, but I never read up too much on them.”

“Those books were some of the only ones I ever read growing up,” Gob said. “That and books about, like, Liszt and Schumann and stuff.”

“And things for school?”

“Did _anyone_ actually read that stuff?”

“ _I_ did,” Tony laughed. “I guess that whole not being popular thing meant I had the time to read. One teacher got me into Poe. He’s still my favorite.”

Deciding it would make him look dumb to ask who that was, Gob just nodded in response. “If you ever want to read up on Freddie and the band, I have books you can borrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely do that sometime,” Tony said with a small nod. “So…if you see yourself as Freddie Mercury, do you have other Queen members in your life?”

Again, Gob laughed. “Yeah. I put all my siblings into the band, because there’s four of us.”

“Makes sense. Who’s who?”

“Well, Lindsay’s Roger Taylor, obviously, because she’s blonde and she has the high notes in the family. And she’s also the one most likely to write about having sex with a car.” Tony nearly spit out his wine at that, which just made Gob laugh harder. “The most obvious is that Michael is John Deacon, though. He’s such a family man, and you know, Deacy retired in the late 90s to just live a quiet, family life. Totally a Michael move. _Totally_.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “And wasn’t he kind of sarcastic?”

“Yes, exactly,” Gob said with a nod. “ _Very_ Michael.” He poured himself and Tony more wine, and then said, “So, that means Buster’s Brian May by default. He _did_ do all these graduate courses…I wouldn’t be surprised if he studied astrophysics at some point.” Gob shrugged; it was the weakest of the comparisons, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

“I can see all of those,” Tony said, “but I don’t know Buster that well.”

“Neither do I,” Gob said honestly, kind of surprising himself. Wine always had a way of making his lips looser and his words blunter. “He’s so much younger than me, you know. And I wasn’t here a lot when he was growing up…not that he really grew up a lot, my mom never allowed that…” He chuckled and said, “Even when we were living together when I was first back here and looking for this place, he wasn’t too happy to have me around. He thought I was ‘stealing’ mom from him.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Woah. That’s…woah.” He laughed a little to himself and said, “Well, I still always thought it was cool how close you are to your siblings. Minus Buster, I guess. I’ve never been as close to my siblings as you are.”

“…But you shared a room with your brothers,” Gob said, puzzled as to how that wasn’t close.

“We were close physically, but that was about it. _My_ Michael is a math professor, so we never had much in common,” Tony said, laughing slightly. “Plus, twin, remember? He was always closer to her; it was seriously like Michael and Pip had a secret language. And we’re about as far apart in age as you and Buster are.”

“Oh, right. I forgot that you’re older than me,” Gob said.

“Only by a few years,” Tony said with a roll of his eyes.

Gob shrugged. “It still makes you older than me.” Tony rolled his eyes again and Gob asked, “How much older is your oldest sibling?”

“Chiara’s nine years older than me.”

“ _Jesus_.”

“Yeah, it’s a weird dynamic,” Tony said. “Chiara and Daniel were born, like, two years apart, then it was nearly six years until Ange was born, and I was barely over a year later. Then Lizzie a few years later, then a few more years and the twins came and, thankfully, my parents finally stopped having kids.”

“And you aren’t close to any of them?” Gob asked.

“Pip calls to talk pretty often, but that’s about it. I was really close to Ange—like, so close that I was the only person who could call her Ange or Angie—but then…” Tony sighed, “I did something really, _really_ stupid and awful. And the whole family kinda hated me for a while. Things are better now, but…”

Gob looked at Tony curiously. “…Did you punch someone?”

“Much worse,” Tony said with a grimace.

“What did you do? It can’t be that bad.”

Tony shook his head. “If I tell you, you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Gob said, again surprising himself at his honesty. “Come on, you know, like, all my bad stuff.”

While he didn’t look fully convinced, Tony sighed and nodded. “Okay, but you promise not to hate me, right?” Gob nodded and brought his feet under him, very excited to hear whatever supposedly bad thing Tony had done.

With another sigh, Tony slowly said, “…After Daniel died… I was working in Baltimore at the time, but I had gotten pretty close to him and his wife when I was going to UCLA, and I figured she’d need some help.” He took a long pause, long enough Gob almost prodded him to talk again, before he finally continued, “I was staying with her and we were both really torn up. And…we slept together.”

 _Oh_.

“Yeah…I wish I could say it was a one-time thing,” Tony said, shaking his head angrily at himself. “I don’t know if it makes it better or worse that it wasn’t about love or even… _genuine_ attraction or anything. It was fucked up; that’s really all there is to it.”

After another sip of wine, Tony said, “And it’s a long story, but Lizzie, found out and then told my family—she always had a big mouth—and they were _not_ happy about it. And I got defensive and… _awful_. Eventually, it ended completely and I apologized to everyone and…” Tony shrugged, “It’s better now. I think they understand that it was just a really awful coping mechanism—Pip’s been great about trying to mediate. But, yeah, it’s another reason why I tend to get a hotel room when I visit. I’m always afraid they won’t want me around.”

They were both silent for a long while, making Tony tenser by the minute. After a while, Tony finally said, “You promised not to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Gob said. Tony didn’t look convinced, and Gob said, “I really _don’t_ hate you. I promise. It was fucked up, but look at me and my family. We’re still _severely_ fucked up in comparison.”

“Not like this, though,” Tony said.

“Buster is most likely my half-brother-slash-cousin,” Gob said with a shrug. At Tony’s surprised look, Gob explained, “My Uncle Oscar isn’t exactly subtle about thinking he’s Buster’s father. And I go to my mom’s once a week and my uncle lives with her now and she’s always talking about how she’s, like… _tingling_. It’s…” Gob wrinkled his nose and trailed off.

Tony winced. “That sounds utterly… _macabre_.”

“That’s the _perfect_ way to describe it.”

“Does Buster know?”

“Not as far as I can tell, but he’s Buster. He’s always gonna be the baby…even with that freaky hook.”

They both shivered at that. Not only was the hook creepy, but the idea of losing a hand to either of them, and therefore ending their careers and passions, was scary as all get out.

“Yeah, that whole thing definitely takes away from him being Brian May,” Tony said lightly.

Gob willingly went along with the subject change. “It’s definitely not as perfect as some of my other Freddie castings. Part of me always wanted to put Seth in that spot, because he’s just so _smart_ and everything…but he’s my Mary Austin.” At Tony’s confused look, Gob explained, “Mary was Freddie’s best friend. Freddie was her son’s godfather, and I’m Seth’s daughter’s godfather, which I’m sure his partner’s _wild_ about,” Gob snorted. “I’m pretty sure _Christopher_ —not Chris, it’s _Christopher_ —hates me. But, like Freddie and Mary, we’re always gonna be involved in each other’s lives, so whoever we’re with has to deal with it. If we could live next door to each other like they did, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Of course, Gob knew the comparison wasn't perfect. He had read enough about Freddie's life to know their relationship was much more complicated and not nearly as healthy as his was with Seth. But, well, it was still the best metaphor he had. Seth was always going to be in his life and vice versa; it didn't matter who they dated or ended up with.

“I’m glad you have someone like that,” Tony said with a slight smile and a nod.

After a moment, Gob smiled and nodded back. “Me, too. Though I had hoped he’d be my Jim Hutton.” He frowned at that thought and finished his wine.

“Jim Hutton was Freddie’s boyfriend, right?” Tony asked.

“Well, they considered themselves husbands, but yeah,” Gob said, staring off into space.

“Maybe Gary can be your Jim, then,” Tony said with a shrug.

“Maybe…” Gob got a far off look on his face, like he could see something Tony couldn’t. It took a moment, but Gob finally said, “It’s weird dating out here…with my mom…”

Tony studied Gob for a moment. “Does your mom not know you’re gay?”

“No, she knows,” Gob said, finally looking back at Tony. “But it’s not something we’ve ever _talked_ about. And I don’t really wanna talk about it with her.”

“Why not?”

Tony waited patiently as he watched Gob collect his thoughts. Finally, Gob said, “My mom and I didn’t get along when I was younger; I kinda always assumed that she hated me. I got yelled at a lot when I was really young, and she never seemed to care for me. When I broke my wrist…I heard her outright say that the only thing I was good for was playing piano. That one…that one hurt." Tony frowned, but before he could say anything, Gob continued, "Obviously my dad was a lot worse, since he started making these limp wrist jokes, so whatever.

"So, I assumed she hated me, but then Lindsay and Michael insisted I was her favorite—well, second to Buster—but I didn’t believe them…”

Gob had a large sip of wine as he struggled to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. “I kinda agree with them now. I realized that my mom is critical of everyone. That’s just who she is. So, her being mean to me is just how she is with everyone.

“The thing is, we’re getting along a lot better now than when I was a kid. Like, yeah, we watched _Dynasty_ together every week and we’d go to the symphony and opera together, but mostly to show me off.” He laughed softly and added, “Well, I guess that’s kinda all we do now, except with _Frasier_ instead of _Dynasty_ , but we talk more when we meet up to watch TV. We get along really well now. And after everything with my dad…”

Gob sighed and admitted, “It wouldn’t be a big deal if I was going back to New York like I assumed I would once the residency ended, but now I…I actually want to stay here. Without having my dad around, it’s been easy to remember how much I love being in California. I like my students and I love having my siblings around. I love the beach and Bluth bananas and my niece and nephew being here, and, _god_ , I love wearing flip flops. And this house.” He looked around him before admitting, “I even like being around my mom—and it’s nice having a parent who doesn’t hate me. And since I want to stay, I…I want her to keep _not_ hating me.”

After finally admitting that out loud, he ran a hand over his face. “ _God_ , that sounds pathetic.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic,” Tony said. Gob gave him a doubtful look. “It’s good that you’re happy here and that you’ve set up a life for yourself here. I’m even planning on living here for a while, too. You can easily set up a home here and fly out to other gigs. Plus, we’re so close to LA that it’s really not that hard to get some big-time gigs, either. And, hey, remember how hard I’m trying to get my family to not hate me? I’m totally with you on that. I definitely feel the same.”

After a moment, Gob nodded. “Yeah, I guess you get it…I just wish _Gary_ got it. I know he wants me to talk to her about it and stop referring to him as a friend, but once the subject’s in the open, things are gonna change. And not in a good way.”

Unable to stop himself, Tony asked, “Is that the only problem you guys are having?”

“Mainly, yeah.” Surprising himself with his honesty yet again, Gob admitted, “The sex could be better, though.”

“Oh, you _have_ to break up with him, then,” Tony said immediately.

“You don’t think that’s shallow or anything?”

Tony shook his head. “No way, man. If you don’t have sexual chemistry, what’s the point? And I think you’d know if you had it by now.”

“It’s not _bad_ or anything; It’s just—I’d like if every once in a while, _I_ could—” He cut himself off and, after a brief pause, shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What? Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like that,” Tony said, nudging Gob’s foot with his own.

“You really want to hear this?”

“Hey, you’ve heard weirder things about my own sex life tonight,” Tony said. Gob still didn’t look convinced. “Would you rather talk about this with Michael?”

“…Honestly, I normally would’ve said something about this just to annoy him, but with him being Gary's boss…”

After a few moments, Gob repositioned himself and looked at Tony. “It’s not really that bad. It’s a little awkward sometimes, but mainly because…we have similar preferences.”

Tony looked confused. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not in this circumstance,” Gob said. Tony still looked confused, so Gob said, “Okay…remember how I said I quit bass ‘cause I didn’t like to stand up?” Tony nodded. “Well…I’m like that in bed, too. I prefer to lie down. And I don’t get to lie down in the way I like with Gary. Because he _also_ likes to _lie down_.”

He raised his eyebrows at Tony and assumed his friend would connect the dots. Tony, however, just looked confused.

“…What way do you like to lie down?” Tony asked.

Gob joked, “I mean, on my back’s fine, but sometimes it’s easier on my stomach.”

Tony still looked confused.

Gob rolled his eyes. “I like to get _fucked_ , Tony— _Jesus_.”

“ _Ooohhh_!” Tony’s eyes widened in realization. “I—okay, yeah. Got it. And Gary also prefers… _that_.”

“Yeah,” Gob said. “And, I mean, it’s fine, I _can_ do both, but _god_ , sometimes I just…need it, you know? I’ve always kinda loved it from short guys the most, too.”

Not noticing Tony’s silence, Gob sighed to himself. “I like him a lot, but…I don’t know. I’m okay with some cute and sweet things, and I _do_ like him. But I’m not sure we have that spark or whatever.” He shrugged and picked up the wine bottle, disappointed to find there was none left as Tony finished off his own glass in one large gulp.

They were both silent again for a while, both of them thinking a lot. Eventually, Gob asked, “You really plan on staying out here?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. I like it here. I have some gigs out of town, but I’ll probably keep Newport Beach as my home base.”

“So, we can still hang out after this recital?” Gob asked, trying to keep his voice light and joking even though he was mildly terrified that Tony would be ready to never see him again after this was over.

"Of course. We’re friends, right?” Tony said, making Gob smile. “I was actually thinking we could even perform some more stuff together—and not stuff like these duets, either. We could pick some better duo pieces, like Stravinsky’s stuff, or this beautiful set by Prokofiev. Or we could find some other players to do some other chamber stuff—”

“Like _Pierrot Lunaire_?” Gob suggested excitedly.

“I was thinking the same thing!” Tony said just as enthusiastically. “Or maybe _The Trout Quintet_ —”

"Same thing!” Gob exclaimed. He had _totally_ been thinking about that, too. “Or maybe—”  

“ _Quartet for the End of Time_!” They said at the same time. They both just looked at each other, both of them amazed at how they obviously had the same musical tastes and had even gone with the English translation of the French piece.

They both laughed quietly. After a brief moment, Gob joked, “And, hey, if you ever want to join my piano studio to finally learn, I’d offer you a friends and family discount now that I know it’s what you want to play the most.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s only if I _could_ play any other instrument. It’s not like I’m disappointed that I can’t play,” he said. After a moment, he added, “And, actually, I _can_ play some things. I had to take keyboard skills classes in my undergrad _and_ I know a song.”

Gob gestured to his piano. “Let’s hear it, Vivaldi.”

“You’re on, Gobie,” Tony said, standing up quickly, the wine affecting his balance for a split second. He cleared his throat and walked over, sitting down on the bench with a flourish that was only ruined by how the bench was slightly too tall for him.

“You may wanna adjust the height, shortie,” Gob said, not bothering to hold back his laughter.

“Just because you’re a fucking _giant_ ,” Tony muttered, lowering the bench a little all the same. Obviously trying to do an impression of Gob, Tony closed his eyes and put his hands on the keys in an overly-serious manner. Gob stood up and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest when Tony finally opened his eyes.

Then, Tony started to play a [familiar tune](https://youtu.be/4CSuPilb5I0?t=30) and Gob started laughing loudly. “Are you serious? ‘Heart and Soul’ doesn’t count,” Gob said.

"Shut up, you’re messing me up,” Tony said, his fingers faltering on the repeated pattern at the beginning. He played it through a few times, laughing a little himself along with Gob.

“Do you not even know the melody line?”

“Nope,” Tony said, making them both laugh again.

“Keep playing,” Gob told him as he walked over to the piano. Tony did so, and Gob, still standing, brought his right hand down to the piano to play the melody line. Just to show off, he stretched his hand out to play it in octaves, lightly singing the verse as he played. " _Heart and soul, I fell in love with you. Heart and soul, the way a fool would do, madly, because you held me tight and stole a kiss in the night_ —"

Gob looked over at Tony again and immediately stopped playing. “Oh my god, you’re killing me, man.”

Tony looked up at him in confusion and stopped playing. “What?”

“It hurts to even _look_ at your hand position,” Gob said. “Here—” Gob stepped behind Tony and carefully moved his shoulders back so he’d sit up straighter. Then he leaned over and moved Tony’s hands onto the keys. “You want to keep your fingers rounded,” he said, moving Tony’s hands into that position. “And keep your wrists straight,” Gob said as, again, he moved Tony’s wrist in the proper direction. “Keep it relaxed. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mumbled.

“And now with how it’s lined up, your left hand won’t have to move, see?” Gob gently pressed Tony’s fingers down on the proper keys in rhythm, smiling as he did so. “Good job.”

“You know I’m not one of your students, right?” Tony asked.

“I know, because you’re not even paying for this; you’re lucky,” Gob said simply. “And with the right hand…” Gob put his right hand in the most efficient position and started to play the part for Tony. “See, you don’t have to move it as much if you do it like this,” Gob said. “Come on, try it.” Gob could practically feel Tony roll his eyes, but he did it anyway, his right hand going to the other side of Gob’s in the same position and playing along with him. Smiling as Tony seemed to actually be moving more efficiently, Gob gently corrected his wrists, vaguely noticing that cologne Tony wore, the one that he really liked. He noticed how his hair was tickling his chin as he bent over, how warm Tony felt in his arms, how his own heart seemed to be speeding up—

How he played the wrong chord.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, lifting his hands off the keys. “Did _the_ George Bluth II mess up?”

Gob stood up straight. “What? No, I—” Tony turned to look at him, a stupid, teasing grin on his face that Gob _hated_. “I didn’t mess up, I—I’m not used to playing the simplified version, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Tony said, still grinning.

“I’m serious! I had requests for the real version all the time in piano bars!” Tony still didn’t seem to believe him, so Gob, with a big huff, sat down next to Tony on the bench. “I made a living playing this version.” After he collected himself—Tony’s impression of him hadn’t been _that_ exaggerated—Gob started to play [the song](https://youtu.be/6flKpJ8NbQg?t=6) how he’d play it in bars when he got requests.

With where he was positioned, he ended up moving his arm in front of Tony quite a few times to play all the notes, his arm grazing Tony’s chest. His left leg crossed behind Tony’s so he could sit at an angle so his right foot reached the pedal. But, just like what always happened, the physical world around Gob seemed to melt away as he played. He could only concentrate on his fingers on the keys and his foot on the pedal.

But, as he held out the final chord, he looked smugly at Tony, and the world came back to him and, yet again, Gob started to notice things. He noticed how their ankles were touching, how close Tony’s face was to his, how Tony had this look on his face that made Gob’s smirk fade away, how his heart was speeding up again…

The two of them were frozen in their positions for what felt like a long time. Gob truly thought his heart might beat out of his chest from the energy in the air; they were both so quiet they could hear the sound of the pedal releasing—Gob didn’t even tell his foot to move at all, when did it do that?—and Gob wouldn’t have been surprised if Tony could hear his heart beating, seeing as it was pounding so hard Gob was sure it was about to burst out of his chest.

“…I can see how you made your living playing like that,” Tony said softly. The corners of Gob’s lips twitched upwards. “Who wrote that arrangement?”

“I, uh, arranged it myself,” Gob replied, his voice also softer, gentler than usual.

“Coming up with your own virtuosic piano setting of a classic?" Tony had a strange look on his face, one that made Gob’s stomach flip. "How very Liszt of you.”

Gob bit his lip—he actually _bit his lip_ , like he was some character out of a cheesy romance novel. But how else could he react when Tony was saying something so fucking _hot_ to him while sitting so close, but somehow not close enough, and why did Gob want to bridge that gap—

Tony suddenly stood up. “I mean, I guess since you’re Gobie and all, it makes sense.”

Dazed and very confused, Gob sat still for a moment. After a few blinks, he nodded along. “Yeah. Student of Liszt and all, yeah.” He shook his head quickly to clear it and continued, “But, as good as your version was, you should stick to what you’re good at, Vivaldi.”

“Ha. Yeah. Right.” Tony cleared his throat, and Gob heard him walk over to the coffee table.

“…So, uh, do you want to run any of that again?” Gob asked. “I mean, the duet stuff—I know you’ve been stressing about…about it.” He finally turned to look at Tony, a little surprised to see his violin bag on his shoulder.

Tony shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m…I’m all good. I don’t wanna bore you anymore.”

“You aren’t boring me—”

“It’s fine, I know this stuff isn’t…isn’t fun for you,” Tony said. His hands nervously clutched at the strap of his case.

“The encore stuff is pretty fun,” Gob said.

“Yeah, but we got that covered well. And we have the dress rehearsal soon and everything; I don’t want to over-practice.”

Gob stared at him for a moment, but Tony seemed to be avoiding looking at him. After a while, Gob finally nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We can save it for the dress. Rest up for that.”

Tony nodded. “Yep. It’s going to be a long one with all the music and the special effects, too.”

“Right, yeah, totally,” Gob agreed. He stood up and quietly said, “So, uh, I’ll see you then?”

“Right. See you then,” Tony said. He finally looked into Gob’s eyes again and, after a small, forced smile, he led himself out of the house before Gob could say anything else.

* * *

Gob was pretty good at ignoring things that probably shouldn’t be ignored. You know, like when he’d get behind on paying his energy bills when he first lived alone or how he’d forget to do his taxes on time. So, really, whatever happened that night with Tony? Totally forgotten.

Tony seemed to have the same approach as him. When they had their dress rehearsal, Tony was all business when it came to setting up the lighting cues and running the music and setting everything up, but he still smiled and joked with Gob before and after the rehearsal. Things seemed to be fine, so why bother questioning that?

And why spend time thinking about that when he could spend time with Gary? You know, his _boyfriend_.

“Do you want some wine or anything?” Gary asked.

“Uh, yeah, wine sounds good,” Gob said as he went to the stereo. “I’ll pick out some music.” Really, at this point, he probably didn’t have to announce that; after all, this was what they did pretty much every time he was at Gary’s apartment. They’d have some drinks, listen to some music—Gary liked hearing Gob’s opinions on everything from classical music to Billy Joel and everything in between. And, in all fairness, Gob liked hearing what Gary had to say about it, too. Normally that’d turn into a make-out session—it was probably stereotypical that Gob got in the mood after some in-depth discussion of music—and then they’d normally have sex and, well, that was that.

“Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio?” Gary called from his kitchen.

Gob wrinkled his nose; he really _did_ prefer red, like the kind he had with—

No. It was  _forgotten_.

"Either’s fine,” Gob called back as he opened up the cabinet to Gary’s CD collection.

He was absolutely determined to find something sexy. They had a spark once, _damn_ it, and Gob was going to get it back. He was looking for some jazz—normally he’d go for Liszt, of course, but he was avoiding listening to other interpretations of Liszt before the recital—when he noticed the CDs he gave Gary for Christmas all stacked together, but something was off.

Gob pulled them out. The Liszt CD and Sondheim musical were both opened, but the third one wasn’t.

“Find something good?”

Gob turned around as Gary put two glasses of white wine on the coffee table. Gob lifted up the un-opened CD, the plastic wrap shining in the light.

“You haven’t listened to _A Night at the Opera_?” Gob asked.

Gary paused. “I’ve listened to it before,” he said.

"But you haven’t listened to the CD I got you.”

“…No, I haven’t.”

Gob was utterly confused. “…But I got it for you.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you could’ve listened to it.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t.” Gary nodded. Gob had never been more confused in his whole life, and Gary looked a bit confused at his confusion. Slowly, Gob said, “I…you _chose_ to _not_ listen to Queen? You didn’t choose to listen to one of the best albums of all time that you now _own_?”

“Gob…” Gary sighed and admitted, “I don’t like Queen.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ”

Gary held up his hands. “I didn’t mean that,” he said quickly. Gob calmed down (slightly) and Gary explained, “I’m not into a lot of rock music, that’s all. Billy Joel’s kind of as rock and roll as I get.”

Gob was pretty sure his brain was short-circuiting. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet, confused.

“And this is why I didn’t say anything; I know how much they mean to you.”

“Why don’t you give them another chance, then? Maybe you’d like them now.”

“I’ve given them a _lot_ of chances,” Gary said. “It’s just not my thing. I like the hits just fine, but I’m not going to like listening to a full album.”

“But…but ‘’39’ is a _gorgeous_ song, and the original version of ‘Love of My Life’ with the harp—and ‘Seaside Rendezvous’! ‘Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon’ is a perfect minute of music! And, come on, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ literally _changed_ music! How could you not _love_ this album?”

“I don’t know, Gob; people are different,” Gary said, crossing his arms. “I _like_ Queen, and I like listening to them from time to time, but I don’t _love_ them.”

“Well, I _like_ Sondheim, but I don’t _love_ him,” Gob said, Gary rolling his eyes at him. “And I _like_ white wine, but I don’t _love_ it. And I _like_ you—" Gob was about to continue when what he realized what he was about to say.

“…Shit,” Gob whispered, running a hand over his face.

Gary didn’t seem as surprised as Gob did. “…We should talk, shouldn’t we?”

Gob nodded and, with a sigh, sat down on Gary’s couch, taking a long sip of wine as he did so.

* * *

“…You broke up with him for not liking Queen?” Michael asked.

“No,” Gob said defensively.

“I think that turned out to be a metaphor,” Anna tried to explain.

Gob nodded in agreement as he splayed himself out on his favorite chair in the model home, his legs dangling off one of the arms as he frowned. “And even if I did, I think that’s a good enough reason.”

“I _did_ always imagine you using a Queen song for the recessional at your wedding someday,” Lindsay said wistfully from the other arm of the chair. "So it  _should_ be someone who loves Queen."

Gob looked at her. “Was it ‘You’re My Best Friend’?” Lindsay nodded and Gob smiled. “Yeah, that’s always been my plan, too.”

Michael gave Gob a curious look. “I didn’t know you had this stuff planned.”

Gob pulled at a loose thread on the chair. “…It’s not like I _want_ to be single forever. It’s just been easier that way.”

Michael looked at his girlfriend and then back at Gob, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry this one didn’t work out, Gob.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s gonna be weird for you at work.”

“I didn’t mean because of that.”

Gob sighed. “I know.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Anna said.

“Me, too,” Lindsay added quietly. “You guys were really cute."

"We were, weren't we?" Gob asked. He shook his head and said, "I guess that's all we were, though." That's what it all came down to. He had cute moments with Gary. They had some fun together, but that was it.

Lindsay frowned at her older brother. "Do you want some ice cream or something?” she asked sympathetically, running a hand over his arm.

“Nah,” Gob said. “I don’t wanna look fat for the recital tomorrow.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay for that?” Anna asked.

“Of course. I mean, it sucks that we had to break up, but seeing as I wasn’t in love with him, I don’t know, it could be worse. Besides, I’m _always_ up for a performance. And this one is _so_ badass. I can’t wait for everyone to see it,” Gob said, perking up already at the thought. “Did you know they’re actually recording it?”

 “Of course I know that,” Anna said. “I’m the one who helped arrange that. And, yes, I already ordered copies for you, your family, and Seth.”

Gob smiled at her. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“And there’s a reason I keep you around, too,” Anna said, moving to sit on the ottoman in front of Gob.

“Because I’m awesome, yeah.”

“Besides that.” With a wide smile, she said, “I had a _great_ phone call last night.”

“If this is some phone sex thing with Michael, I’d rather not hear about it.”

“Why would I have phone sex with Michael when I was here in person helping him break a record?” Anna asked with a raised eyebrow. Michael proudly held up four fingers.

“ _Gross_.”

“Hey, after all the stuff you’ve told me about your sex life, consider this payback,” Michael said, Anna nodding in agreement while Lindsay snorted.

“ _Anyways_. I got confirmation that a critic from _The LA Times_ is coming out for this,” she said excitedly. “And he’s bringing someone who happens to be on the board of the LA Phil _and_  works for FCD.”

Gob slowly realized what she meant. “…FCD as in the classical music record company?”

“I told you I had big plans. And it's not like I just waited around for your two years to finish up."

Gob blinked a few times, his body in a state of shock. “But…I…I haven’t even played in any big halls.”

“This is how we can help you _get_ to the big halls,” Anna said. “All your glowing reviews here have really helped re-brand you. You boosted the ticket sales here and people are interested and willing to invest.” She laughed lightly and said, “And, honestly, your father being accused of treason is one of the best things that could've happened to you.” At Michael’s cough, she corrected, “I mean for your _career_. You punching him now makes you look like an American hero or something.

“And, as long as you do as good as you always do, then everything will fall into place, just like I knew it would."

For a long time, Gob was stunned speechless. Finally, Anna teased, "If you want to thank me, you know what kind of wine I like." 

 

* * *

Gob was calm. Almost eerily calm for someone who was about to perform a possibly life changing recital right after breaking up with his boyfriend of over half a year. Part of that was ~~probably~~ definitely a sign that breaking up was the right move; part of that was ~~probably~~ ~~definitely~~ _hopefully_ a sign that he was truly ready for what he was about to do.

And, really, he felt like he was. He had gone through his usual pre-performance routines, which were all things that helped to calm him down and make him feel more prepared for any performance coming his way. As usual, he didn’t even touch a piano until he got to the performance hall. Instead, he spent the whole day chilling out and talking with some of his family and Anna—well, except for about an hour and a half where he sat alone and stared off into space as he ran through the program in his head, his fingers occasionally twitching as he thought about the trickier passages. Thankfully, everyone around him was used to it enough to know not to interrupt him.

After a light dinner, Gob made his way over to the recital hall and finally sat at the piano. He warmed up with some scales and ran over the more difficult passages as well as the beginning of each piece. At Tony’s request, he started all the duet pieces with him and they both checked in with the stage manager to make sure the special effects were in order.

Once it was time for the house to open, the two of them made their way to the green room, where Tony started to pace. Gob was used to it at this point; he knew Tony was a pacer, someone who had to get his nervous energy out of his body before he went on stage. Gob, however, went onto his last pre-performance tradition: his manicure kit.

Okay, yeah, maybe it was the gayest thing he ever did—well, probably more like the most lesbian thing he ever did—but keeping his nails clean and orderly was important for his whole craft and it was something he maintained at least once a week. He started going over his nails before every performance after, while playing for some dumb community theater production, he caught a hangnail on one of the black keys. He kept playing, _obviously_ , but it was definitely painful and he didn’t enjoy having to wipe blood off the keyboard once the show ended. It was a way to help ease his mind before he had to go on stage, regardless of what he was playing.

“I can’t believe how calm you are,” Tony said when they had a few minutes left. “After everyone you told me was coming—the critic and everyone—aren’t you freaking out?”

Gob thought about it as he filed a nail. “I mean, I’m excited and I _am_ a little nervous. But I also know I’m ready for whatever’s gonna happen,” he said. “I’ll probably get more nervous once the second half starts, but…this is music we were meant to play. And we've been working on it for over a year now.”

After a moment, Tony smiled. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He finally sat down on the couch, but Gob could tell he needed to get his mind off of it.

He had really gotten to know how Tony worked.

“So, did any of your family make it down?” Gob asked.

“Pip did, actually,” Tony said, smiling more at the reminder. “There’s some conference going on in LA so it was kinda perfect timing.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Gob said.

“Yeah. She’s a little pest, but she’s great,” Tony said with a laugh. “I wish more of them could make it, but it’s a busy time of year for my parents, and Pip and I are the only single and childless ones left, so it’s easier for us to travel.”

“I don’t even want to know how big your family is when you add in your nieces and nephews.”

“You _really_ don’t.” They both laughed and Tony asked, “What about you? The whole family?”

“Basically,” Gob replied simply. “Everyone but my dad, of course. Plus a few friends.”

“Yeah, I mean, I have friends coming, too.”

“You have actual friends?” Gob teased. Tony rolled his eyes, laughing despite himself.

Just then, the stage manager poked her head inside. “Let’s get going.”

* * *

Once the lights in the theater dimmed, Jason came onto stage with applause. He thanked everyone for coming to the final concert of the season and said he hoped everyone looked through their program notes for all the information on the scores. Gob looked at Tony and Tony looked back, both of them smiling as Jason told the audience how they were in for a treat that night and gave them great compliments. Gob felt ready to burst from pride.

“In the nature of Paganini, and of Liszt for that matter, there are definitely some creative and dramatic performance practices that will happen tonight,” Jason said with a small chuckle. “So, we feel obligated to warn you, if you didn’t take notice of the signs on the doors, that there will be smoke and flashing lights.” A few people in the audience laughed and Jason said, “Again, it’s definitely keeping in theme with a performer and composer who was closely associated with the devil. But now, I invite you to sit back and enjoy the enthralling recital these two have put together.”

Jason left the stage and, once they were given the signal from the stage manager, Tony asked Gob, “You ready?”

Gob smiled brightly, a warmth spreading in his chest. “I’m definitely ready.” Tony nodded back with a smile and drew himself up taller. They nodded once at each other in unison before facing the stage and walking on, Gob following Tony and his special black violin out.

Once Gob reached the piano and Tony was set, they bowed together towards the applauding audience and Gob sat down on the piano. Gob played an A for Tony to tune to, which he did quickly yet carefully.

They both took a moment to center themselves and then Tony’s bow was moving and Gob was playing right along with him, no signal to start necessary. Not only had they practiced “Cantabile” so much that Gob could play it backwards, but he also just _knew_ how to follow Tony. He knew when he came in, he could tell when he was slowing down, he didn’t even have to look at him to know what he was going to do. They were just _connected_ up there.

It was why he loved playing with him so much.

Once they finished that lovely, if short, song, they went on to a more show-y piece that was typical of Paganini, “[Moto Perpetuo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPRWshWq9E4)”. That song was definitely a lot more boring for Gob since he was literally just there to provide some background and a steady tempo, but, hey, he’d get his time to shine on his own. You know, eventually.

In the meantime, he still enjoyed playing with Tony and watching him in his element. Gob could tell his nerves had completely disappeared and he was completely in the zone, making the flashy, showy piece look like the easiest thing in the world. And his all black outfit paired with his black, spiky hair made him really seem like a modern version of Paganini.

That song wrapped up their first set as listed in the program. The audience clapped and Gob stood up, bowing again with Tony before walking off stage with him. The stage manager closed the curtain to get the piano out of sight and Tony and Gob smiled at each other.

“So far, so good,” Gob said quietly but excitedly.

“Definitely,” Tony agreed, a large smile on his face. “Now it’s caprices time.”

“And you were _born_ to do those,” Gob whispered. Noticing Tony’s tie was slightly askew, Gob reached over without permission and straightened it out, a shock running through his system as his hands grazed against Tony’s chest.

What was that about?

Gob looked back at Tony’s face once he fixed the tie, but Tony didn’t seem to be fazed. “Thanks,” he said. “Too bad I didn’t get a violin necktie, huh?” Gob rolled his eyes at Tony’s teasing before sending him off with a traditional message of good luck.

Of course, Tony’s selection of caprices went over swimmingly. Despite his nerves, Gob had never doubted that they’d be anything less than stellar. Gob, under normal circumstances, would’ve focused on his upcoming solos backstage, but with Tony…god, Gob couldn’t look away from him. He found himself fixated on his friend, still amazed despite how many times he’d seen him play at just how focused he was, how expressive—how _artistic_.

He was so captivated, he barely noticed the special effects kicking in during the “[Devil’s Laugh](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLDeYZXUDDQ)” caprice. And those effects were _his_ idea. See, he figured that, in order to help convey the speed of Tony’s bow and invoke the devilish side of the piece, it only made sense to make use of the smoke machines. And, to further invoke the devil, they had a little bit of a change in lighting cast part of his face in shadow.

Thankfully, Tony was rational enough to take those ideas and work _very_ carefully with the crew so there wasn’t so much smoke that he or anyone else would choke or that the light would make him completely blind or anything. There was just enough smoke to billow around him, making his all-black attire look even more devilish and his skill seem supernatural, and the light made him look perfectly creepy.

Gob’s ideas with Tony’s follow through really helped make them a good team, and the impressed murmurs he heard from the audience only confirmed that for him.

Finally, Tony reached that [final caprice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZ307sM0t-0) and Gob leaned forward in his chair and watched carefully as Tony played. He’d heard him run through it so many times, and he had played various versions of it so many times over the last year that he was almost tired of the melody. But Tony managed to put new life in it every time, he managed to grab attention so much that, even when there was smoke surrounding the stage again, Gob could only focus on him and how his bow literally _bounced_ on the strings. Gob still had no idea how he did that so fast and so accurately.

He hit the final note—well, notes, since it ended on a chord, which Gob assumed had to be difficult as hell to play on a violin—and, as soon as he lowered his right hand, the crowd started clapping. Suddenly, barely a second after the applause started, the lights went out on stage. Gob grinned as the lights flickered back on and Tony had already “disappeared” by jumping behind the curtain. There were some murmurs of confusion before the audience went back to clapping, seeming to catch onto the gimmick.

Tony made it back to where Gob was sitting, smiling widely and definitely sweating, well, a _lot_. Between the lights and the virtuosic playing he had just done, Gob couldn’t blame him; he knew he was going to be sweating soon enough.

“You were _amazing_ out there,” Gob said breathlessly as the lights went back up in the audience.

“Really? Good, because it felt amazing,” Tony said, sounding giddier than Gob had ever heard him. “God, they’re a great crowd, right? Completely packed.” He looked at Gob with excitement. “I think that critic will be impressed.”

“Definitely. It was a performance of a lifetime,” Gob said honestly. 

“Thanks, man. Now it’s your turn; time to end our residencies right.”

It was only then that Gob started to feel nervous.

 _Fuck_ , this was really where the last two years had led him. Two years of living back in a town he had sworn he’d never live in again, two years of playing accompaniment parts and teaching kids and doing things he thought he’d never do, two years of trying to build his reputation back…it all led to this. This was his chance to really showed that he deserved to get recorded and to play the big halls, that the Phil shouldn’t have turned him down the first time, that he was more than a guy who had punched his father on a boat.

Tony seemed to notice his nerves. “Hey,” he said softly, taking one of Gob’s hands. “You’ve got this,” he said seriously, looking Gob in the eyes. “You’re gonna go out there and rock it, because you’re not called Gobie for nothing.”

Gob laughed under his breath and broke eye contact with Tony, his eyes landing on their hands. Without thinking much of it, Gob interlaced their fingers and looked back up at Tony. For whatever reason, that made his chest feel warm. “Yeah…well, maybe you should be called Paganini instead of Vivaldi.”

“I’d love it if you changed my nickname to that,” Tony said, giving Gob’s hand a small squeeze as he smiled.

“I’ll think about it, _Antonio_ ,” Gob joked quietly, well aware they needed to keep their voices down backstage.

Soon after that, their stage manager warned them the intermission was ending shortly. Gob nodded and looked back at Tony. “You’ve got this, Gobie,” Tony said, giving Gob’s hand one more squeeze. “I’ll see you out there.”

Gob squeezed Tony’s hand in return before (reluctantly) pulling his hand away. After adjusting his G-buckle on his belt, Gob focused as best as he could, on taking calm, deep breaths.

And as the lights started to dim in the audience, Gob started to feel a sense of peace rush over him. Performing was the thing he was meant to do, and, once he got the signal from the stage manager, Gob went out on stage confidently, ready to show off to the whole audience, not just the critic and the record exec.

He bowed once he reached the piano bench, fairly certain he could hear some members of his family cheering over the large, sold-out theater. He smiled and sat down at the bench. After he took a moment to center himself, he placed his hands on the keys and started playing Brahms’ _[Variations on a Theme of Paganini](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EIE78D0m1g)_.

It was a piece Gob enjoyed well enough—though,  _no_ , it didn't beat Liszt's pieces. Not by a long shot. It was still a good piece, though, with two books of fourteen variations each, all loosely based on the twenty-fourth caprice. It actually _was_ remarkable for a Brahms piece, seeing as Brahms normally didn’t write virtuosic pieces like that. No wonder it was one of few pieces of his that Gob actually found interesting. And, while he had his own smoke effect, he barely noticed as he kept on playing and playing, focusing singularly on performing as well as he could. 

Once he finished that, he bowed to the loud applause and went off stage to wipe his forehead and take a small breath. Tony, his violin back in hand, nodded at him, and the two of them went back on again to do [Ysaÿe’s _Paganini variations d’apres le caprice, No. 24_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9d-9Zd1mLNQ). Yet again, he concentrated almost solely on Tony, his eyes rarely leaving him as he followed his every move. He felt like he didn’t even have to tell his fingers to move; they did on their own accord, the music coming out naturally just from the connection the two of them had, the bond they shared, the nature of their friendship.

It was like magic.

The piece ended much sooner than Gob expected. Once they took their bows together, Gob led them off stage and rolled his shoulders a few times.

“Time for you to play what you were born to play,” Tony said.

“Now you’re just stealing my words.”

“Hey, they apply equally to us, don’t you think?” Tony said, giving Gob a teasing smile as he nudged him playfully. “Paganini and Liszt 2.0, right?”

“2.0?”

“Yeah, 2.0. We’ve improved on them by actually working together, unlike they did. Right?”

After a moment of thought, Gob nodded and, after a clap on his shoulder, Tony stepped back, letting Gob have a moment to collect his thoughts.

And, really, he _did_ have this. And not just because it was Liszt, the composer he had always interpreted the best. It was because he didn’t just spend those two years trying to prove himself and make the best of a bad situation. He had spent two years growing as a person, finding out more about himself, and becoming an even better artist. And he definitely owed one person a lot for that.

Gob looked back behind himself at Tony, and gave him a smile. Tony truly _had_ become the Paganini to his Liszt.

Now he just needed to figure out where he fit in with the whole Freddie metaphor.

Well, not _now_. He had time to think about that later. At the moment, he had to walk on stage, which was exactly what he did once he turned away from Tony.

Gob bowed towards the audience and sat back down at the piano bench, finding himself looking right back at Tony, who was still standing in the wings. His friend gave him a thumbs up and Gob smiled before closing his eyes and centering himself.

Gob played his way through movements 1, 2, 4, 5, and 6, purposefully skipping the third movement. After lots of talk with both Jason and Tony, they had agreed to play it out of order so the third movement, the most famous, “La campanella”, would be last. It made for a better, more dramatic ending in Gob’s opinion. And seeing as it was the only étude that wasn’t based off of one of the caprices, and therefore the most different thing the audience had heard so far, Gob figured it was a good piece to end the set on.

Once he hit the final notes of the sixth movement, Gob re-situated his hands on the piano and closed his eyes. After a couple of breaths, he opened his eyes and, with a nod to himself, started to play [the piece](https://youtu.be/M0U73NRSIkw?t=17).

It was truly one of his favorite pieces of piano music in existence. He loved how he could truly hear it as the little bell playing from the trills in the high register, just like the translation of the Italian name suggested. As he started to pick up speed, he felt his body moving with the music, his head nodding forward, his shoulders leaning into the notes to give the keys more pressure, his heart pounding as he got carried away to one of his favorite pieces by his favorite composer in what had become one of his favorite performance venues.

But it was time for the real major special effect. At the return of the [first theme](https://youtu.be/M0U73NRSIkw?t=165), the lights started to flicker a little, as if effected by the trills Gob was playing. Of course, yet again, Gob barely noticed, his whole body seeming to be in a different plane of existence. When [the theme repeated for the final time](https://youtu.be/M0U73NRSIkw?t=229), his fingers started to move faster and faster, feeling almost impossibly fast, even to _him_. His hands looked like a blur to his eyes, but that was possibly from the fact that some sweat had definitely dripped into his eyes.

Hey, playing Liszt often turned into a full cardio routine.

The lights started to flash quicker, trying to match his speed as his hands continued to move faster and faster until, finally, he hit the final chord, his hands flying off the keys fast from the momentum of his movements. His heart was pounding as the lights, as planned, flashed as bright as possible before darkening completely.

The lights came back on as the audience applauded loudly. Gob hadn’t fully come back to himself yet, but he managed to stand up and take a bow. He heard a loud mixture of cheers and claps and screams, and he started to smile as he bowed again before heading off stage, finding the same rag he had used before to wipe off his forehead.

“…Wow,” Tony whispered, sounding genuinely impressed. He shook his head, speechless for a moment. Finally, he managed to say, “I can’t believe we’re really going to try an encore after that.”

“Not just one encore—we have two, remember?”

“We’re such idiots.”

They both laughed but, as they heard the audience continuing to applaud, Tony got his violin and the two of them walked on stage and bowed. They bowed again as everyone kept clapping, and then Gob sat down at the piano again and Tony quickly checked his tuning. The audience’s applause quieted as they realized there was an encore.

Once they were centered and ready, Gob started to play a slow melody, one that possibly came across as classical to the crowd, maybe even hymn-like. Tony watched him as he waited for his entrance, letting Gob stretch out the slow section. He reached the last cadence of his solo and Tony put his violin on his shoulder, the two of them making eye contact right before Tony started to play the violin intro and the tempo sped up.

Gob couldn’t help but smile as he heard some laughter from those who recognized the song, “[The Devil Went Down to Georgia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sh7BZf7D5Bw)”. After all, it was too perfect for them to _not_ include it.

Of course, even though the verses were mostly spoken versus sung, the idea of having to deal with mics and all of that seemed too messy. Instead, as Gob played piano, Tony played the melody of the chorus and the violin interlude that followed.

Almost immediately after that, Tony started to bounce his bow against the strings, sounding similar to the guitar part of the Devil’s solo. Once Gob started to play the bass part on the piano and gave him more support, Tony started to play his own version of the Devil's solo. While he initially kept it fairly close to the original, he ad libbed and stretched out the section, throwing in a few hints to the caprices and even a quotation of "[Pachelbel's Canon](https://youtu.be/hOA-2hl1Vbc)", making the audience and Gob laugh. Hey, it was definitely a song worthy of the Devil, seeing how much every classical musician despised it. 

Finally Tony cadenced and let his bowing hand drop to his side. He looked at Gob challengingly and Gob smirked, just as they had practiced. After playing a small interlude, Gob stopped playing for a moment so Tony could start playing the violin again, bouncing his bow to create a guitar-like effect again. Then Gob started to play his own version of Johnny's solo.

Honestly, improv, while something he had gotten better at, wasn't his strongest suit. He wasn't the best at thinking on his feet, and it wasn't something he particularly liked to do in performances; he mainly did things he had already done in all their practices, like throwing in quotes from his Liszt pieces. 

But, suddenly, an idea for a new quote popped into his head. He looked over at Tony and then back at the keys and, in the key of the piece, he played a snippet of the melody line of "Heart and Soul" in octaves on his right hand. The audience laughed again and Tony smiled as he kept playing.

Once Gob finished up his section, they went straight to the final chorus, with Gob playing the harmonies that were normally sung and Tony providing the violin part. They played the postlude together and, after a short moment, Tony brought his violin to his side and Gob lifted his hands off the piano, both of them grinning at each other as the audience clapped and cheered for them.

Again, they bowed together and then each took a solo bow each before going backstage.

"Wow, Gobie. You actually improvised something out there," Tony said. He wasn't even teasing as he continued, "I'm seriously impressed."

Gob shrugged a shoulder. "I guess I got inspired." The two smiled at each other before looking back towards the stage. The crowd was still clapping so Gob and Tony looked back towards each other.

“I guess it’s time for our second encore,” Tony said with a grin.

“I guess it is,” Gob agreed. Tony grabbed his violin with one hand and Gob’s hand with the other. Gob’s heart literally fucking fluttered at the contact, but he couldn’t focus on that, not when Tony was leading him onto the stage.

Tony let go of his hand after they bowed again and Gob remembered, oh yeah, encore. He went back to the piano bench and Tony quickly checked the tuning of his violin for the final time that night as the audience’s clapping started to slowly die down.

Gob rolled his shoulders back and put his fingers on the keys, his eyes soon landing on Tony’s face. Tony’s eyes were closed as he got himself ready. Once he was focused, he opened his eyes and looked right at Gob’s. Without any other signal necessary, Gob played the first four beats before Tony came in on the violin.

As Gob kept his eyes on Tony and made sure to keep in time with him, people slowly started to recognize the piece. George Michael, Maeby, and Steve grinned widely; Lindsay, Eve, and Anna laughed; Buster tilted his head in confusion; and Lucille frowned. She remembered hearing this song blasting from her son's room a lot when he was growing up.

Michael, however, ended up watching completely dumbfounded. While he got “The Devil Went Down to Georgia”, this had nothing to do with the theme whatsoever, and was just clearly a song the two of them thought it would be fun to play. The two of them were taking it as seriously as any of that stuff they had been playing for the last two hours, probably even more seriously than their other encore. There was no hint of irony or anything. It was a song Michael had heard Gob play many times before, but he had never heard him play it in a duet form. And he definitely never met anyone else who would take it just as seriously as he did.

To them, Paganini and Liszt and Brahms were on the same level of dedication and respect as a [piano and violin cover of “The Final Countdown”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyOG4fEff3Y).

He clapped with the rest of the crowd and stood up for them again, unable to finally hold back a laugh as they each took a solo bow. “It’s like there’s two of him,” Michael said with a shake of his head.

* * *

After they finally took their multiple final bows and ran off stage, Tony immediately pulled Gob in for a hug and, after a moment of confusion, Gob hugged him back, holding back a bit of a laugh at how, wow, Tony really _was_ a lot shorter than him. But it was nice, really. He kinda liked how he was pretty sure he could rest his chin on top of his head if he tried—

“God, that was _great_!” Tony exclaimed. He pulled away and looked Gob in the eye. “We’re totally doing that again, right? Maybe that concert again, definitely that chamber stuff.”

“ _Totally_ ,” Gob agreed, his whole face lighting up at the idea. “Gotta take this on tour someday.”

“Definitely.”

“Just the two of us and the hotel mini-bar.” Gob grinned at the mere idea.

Tony suddenly got a funny look on his face that Gob couldn’t recognize. “Yeah. Maybe.” A second later, Tony was grinning again and saying, “I think it’s time to meet our adoring public.”

* * *

There was a huge flurry of commotion as Gob and Tony went to the reception. Gob found himself shaking so many people’s hands and thanking them for their compliments. They had their pictures taken, both together and with Jason as people kept congratulating them. With all the other people he had to talk to, it took a good fifteen minutes before Gob finally found his family.

“Uncle Gob!” Maeby cried out first, wrapping her arms around him. He was so excited he lifted her up in the air and spun her around for a second. “That was _so good_!”

Gob barely had time to thank her before George Michael was repeating the sentiment, actually hugging him back as well. Then Buster snuck in and then Gob, only partially reluctantly, actually let Tobias hug him and compliment him; he was too happy to deny him that for once—though was the slap of his ass necessary? Then his Uncle Oscar was hugging him tightly, which surprised him, and his mom soon gave her usual cheek kisses and hug in response, though that hug seemed tighter than usual, too.  _Warmer._

It was weird, but Gob couldn't stop smiling.

When she let him go, Gob saw the newest additions to his family and waved them over. Eve gave him a short, single-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You were fantastic,” she said, offering him a sincere smile.

"Thanks. And thanks for coming," Gob said. He knew the whole thing had to be weird for her—it was weird for  _him_ —but he really  _did_ want to be a part of their lives.

 

“That was _awesome_!” Steve cheered, nearly knocking over the plate of cookies he had, just as excited as ever. “I _love_ magic!”

“Really?” Gob asked. “Me, too! Here, let me…” Gob searched in his pockets and thankfully found a button he could use. He grinned and “pulled” it from behind Steve’s ear, making his son—his _son_ , god, that was still _so weird_ —grin widely.

“ _Awesome._ I’ve got such a cool dad!”

Gob tensed up at first since he _still_ wasn't used to the title, but he made himself relax. “…Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Steve.” He smiled, rather proud of himself for managing to talk to him at all. It was still hard for him, but,  _again_ , he was trying. 

"Oh, want a cookie?" Steve asked, holding out his plate.

"What kind?"

"Oatmeal raisin. They're my  _favorite_."

"Really?!" Gob exclaimed. "Me, too!" They gave each other a high five and Gob eagerly took one. It was nice finding something the two of them had in common besides high school popularity, at least.

Finally, Gob pulled away to see Anna, Lindsay, and Michael. Anna was definitely in business mode, with her pale, blonde hair pulled back in a bun and high heels on her feet; Gob had learned those signs well. She still gave him a hug and congratulated him, but her compliments included how he totally impressed all their fancy guests, since, again, she was in business mode.

“You were so amazing up there, Gob,” Lindsay said sincerely, wrapping him up in a hug and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “…God, you’re sweaty.”

Gob laughed with her as she pulled away. “You try playing that music without breaking a sweat.”

He turned to Michael with a grin. Michael grinned back and just shrugged. “That was amazing, Gob,” he said. “Really. I don’t even know what else to say.” With that, the two hugged.

Once Gob pulled away from Michael, Tony made his way through the crowd pulling a young woman by the hand. She was shorter than him, but she had the same smile. “Oh, hey,” Gob said. “You must be Pip.”

Suddenly the woman stopped smiling and turned to glare at Tony. Tony laughed and the woman shook her head before turning back to Gob. “It’s _Sofia_ ,” she said. “Pip is a nickname that my family won’t give up.”

“Hey, it’s a good nickname—”

“When it’s short for ‘Pipsqueak’, it really isn’t!”

“It’s short for _Filippa_ , which is her _real_ name,” Tony told Gob. “The ‘Pipsqueak’ part was just a bonus.” 

"And it's the  _worst_ name in the family, hence why I go by my middle name, nowadays. I thought you'd understand,  _Antonio Francesco Wunderlich_."

Gob shrugged and said, "I think Michaelangelo is a worse name."

Pip/Sofia looked at him curiously before laughing. "Okay, true. I should consider myself lucky they had already had Angela, or else they were going to name me Mariangela to be all matching and _ew_." After a beat, she added, “You were amazing up there, by the way. And, sorry, hi, yes, it’s nice to meet you.” She pulled him in for a hug, which surprised him, and, after she pulled away, she gave him a once-over. “Tony’s told me a _lot_ about you,” she said. Something about how she said that made Gob’s stomach leap hopefully, while Tony nudged her with a disapproving look.

“Yeah? Like what?” Gob asked.

Before she could answer, Anna was handing Gob a glass of sparkling wine and telling him it was time to mingle some more. Pip/Sofia waved goodbye and Gob waved back as Tony was greeted by the rest of the Bluth family. Gob watched him hug Michael and Lindsay for a moment before turning back towards Anna as they made their way across the reception area.

* * *

“ _Extraordinary_ job.”

“Simply outstanding.”

"I loved the innovation—the special lighting, the changing of the order, those encores."

"It really enhanced the whole performance and would've made Paganini proud."

" _And_ Liszt."

Gob smiled and shook the hands of the critic and the rep from the LA Phil. He couldn’t remember their names, so he just thanked them as Anna beamed at him.

“I already have the perfect way to describe your Liszt—which, again, was truly _breathtaking_ ,” the critic said. Gob thanked him again and the man said, “The speed of Kissin with the artistry of Cziffra.”

That honestly almost made Gob cry.

“I…wow, thank you,” Gob said, his face bursting into, somehow, the biggest smile of the night. “I…thanks, I…wow. Thank you.” He shook the man’s hand again, both of them laughing at how speechless he was.

“He really _is_ such a great combination of the two,” Anna agreed, smiling up at him.

“Definitely,” the man from the Phil agreed. “You have a way with Liszt…I’ve been trying to get a performance of Liszt’s first piano concerto going for a while now. I think once they see this recording, they’ll be ready to make that a reality.”

Gob was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest. “I…yeah, that’d be great.”

“And, of course, we’ll have to talk about getting a better recording of those _Paganini études_ sometime,” he added with a wink.

“We definitely will,” Anna agreed as she handed him one of her business cards.

“Well…we’ll be in touch,” he said.

The critic nodded in agreement. “I have to go finish this review before we go to press, but, again, that was a tremendous performance.” He smiled and added, “I hope you plan on doing more performances with Tony Wonder. You two make a great team.”

Gob nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. We’re definitely planning on it.”

Gob and Anna both bid them goodbye and watched them leave. 

"Are they gone?" Anna asked Gob, unable to see over the crowd of people, even in her heels.

"Just a second…" As soon as he saw them leave out the door he turned to Anna and they both made sounds very similar to squeals—not that either of them would admit it.

"God, that went better than I ever thought it could!" Anna said. She handed Gob her still partly full glass of champagne pulled out some bobby pins from her hair, letting her hair fall from its bun. "I was so nervous that I made that bun _way_ too tight," she explained as she stored the pins back in her purse.

"You were nervous? I thought you believed in me," Gob teased.

Anna playfully rolled her eyes. "I get nervous; I can't help it."

Gob shook his head as he handed her back her glass of wine. "You and Michael really  _are_ ridiculously similar, you know. Anxiety included."

She smiled at him and shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe. But I've already done the whole opposites attract thing and ended up divorced before I was even thirty. I'm ready to try being with someone who's the… _same_ as me." 

"I guess that makes sense," Gob said, not really sure what else to say.

"Though, of course, we aren't  _completely_ the same," Anna said. At Gob's raised eyebrow, she said, "If we were the sex wouldn't be nearly as good as it is."

"Oh my god,  _stop it_ ," Gob said. As Anna tried to tease him with some more information—again, giving him the taste of his own medicine—Gob pressed his hands to his ears and walked away quickly. He was  _not_ letting his brother's sex life ruin his night.

* * *

“Did you get a chance to meet the critic?” Gob asked Tony once they were finally reunited.

“Yeah, I did. _God_ , I can’t believe…” he shook his head, a large smile on his face. “I can’t believe this is happening. This…wow.”

“Same,” Gob said, still feeling overwhelmed and speechless. He grabbed another champagne flute from a waiter who came by and lifted his glass to Tony. “To Paganini.”

Tony lifted his back towards Gob. “To Liszt.” They both laughed and clinked their glasses together before taking a sip.

"So we’re _definitely_ doing this all again—”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gob Bluth.” Gob turned around and saw, of all people, Sally Sitwell.

“Stickwell,” Gob greeted. At her frown, he corrected himself, “I mean, Sitwell. Sally. I didn’t know you were coming.”

"Hey, I’ve always been a fan of the arts,” she said with a ~~sickly-~~ sweet smile. “I played flute, remember?" Gob actually didn't remember that, but it made too much sense, really; so many flutists were totally bitchy. She continued, "Though, admittedly, it’s still hard to understand the fact that the partying, Prom King playboy of our high school can play so… _artistically_.” 

Gob felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. 

Thankfully, before he could contemplate any hidden meaning in her words, he heard someone else call his name. He looked over to see Derrick and some of the Hot Cops, this time actually dressed properly for the orchestra. “Excuse me,” Gob said, gladly leaving Sally to go greet his friends.

Gob got lost in a whirlwind of familiar faces again, greeting his Hot Cops friends, some of his students who had made it to the show, and some of his mom’s friends from the club. 

Eventually he found his way back to the bar with another glass of champagne, though Tony wasn't there anymore. "Hi again."

Gob turned around and smiled at the sight of Tony's sister. "Hey Pi— _Sofia_."

She laughed and said, "It's fine; I just like messing with Tony. And I genuinely want to go by that for professional things. It sounds more adult-y to me." 

"Yeah, I  _definitely_ get that," Gob chuckled. "Feel free to call me Gob instead of George."

"Deal," Pip said, clinking her glass against his. 

"So," Gob said slowly, "you said Tony's told you a lot about me?"

Pip grinned. "We talk at least once a week—I make sure of that, since I don't want him disappearing off the face of the planet again. So, yeah, you came up a lot," she said.

"Yeah? How badly did he portray me?" Gob asked. "I'm sure he thought I was an asshole at first."

"Are you kidding?" Pip asked, actually laughing a little. "God, Tony just wanted to know how he could get you to like him."

Gob had to say he felt oddly flattered about that.

"He found you very fascinating and confusing; he kept calling you an 'enigma'," Pip continued. 

"You mean like one of those little cell things?" Gob said. What did that have to do with anything?

Pip shook her head. "No, you're thinking of an amoeba. An enigma means someone or something that's hard to understand." 

Gob snorted. "Your brother is weird. He could've just  _asked_ me about, like, all of this. He didn't have to keep trying to guess if I was gay; I would've told him if he asked."

Much to his surprise, Pip raised her eyebrows. "Well, he didn't tell me about _that_." 

"Oh."

Pip shrugged. "I'm not surprised—that he didn't tell me, not that you're gay. I hadn't made any sort of guess about your sexuality," she said honestly. "Tony's…Tony's a very private person. He doesn't like telling too many people too much about his life, especially when it comes to things like sex and relationships." With a laugh she said, "Not to put my therapist goggles on, but when you grow up in such a big family with very little privacy, you  _really_ start to treasure every little bit of privacy and independence you can get. So, yeah, he tends to extend the same courtesy to everyone else…Plus, he's been burned in that area a _lot_ before. Things are still so tense between him and Lizzie…"

"Oh, yeah, she's the one who told everyone about him and your brother's widow, right?"

Pip opened her mouth to reply, almost as if to correct him. But, instead, she ended up nodding. "Yep, that was Lizzie." She rolled her eyes and muttered, "And she's a complete gold mine of psychological problems."

"If you want psychological problems, you really need to meet my family," Gob said with a snort.

"I met them," Pip said. "And, trust me, I'm  _very_ interested. Your brother? The one missing a hand? Do you think there's any chance I could steal him away to do a study on him?"

"You'd have to take my mom with you."

Pip rolled her eyes. "You're just making me want to study him more." 

Pip left soon after; she had just flown in that day and it was starting to get late, after all. It was only then that Gob realized he had no idea where Tony was. And, really, he needed to fix that. They hadn't made any official plans or anything, but Gob assumed they'd go out after the concert or something, and seeing as he had left him with the Queen Bitch of his high school, he really needed to rescue him.

The crowd was starting to thin, but he still couldn't see where Tony was. His lack of height honestly didn't help with the whole finding him thing. Gob ran into Lindsay, Michael, and Anna, who seemed to be getting ready to leave, too. "Do you know where Tony is?" Gob asked. "I left him with Sally Sitwell; I can’t imagine he’s having too much fun.”

Michael frowned at him. "Come on, Gob, Sally's a doll—" Anna raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly said, "I mean, no, he definitely can't be having fun."

" _Smooth_ ," Anna replied dryly. 

Lindsay looked over Gob's shoulder, her eyes slowly widening. “…I think he’s doing just fine.”

“What?” Gob asked, laughing a little in confusion. He looked at her warily before finally turning around himself, his eyes soon landing on what Lindsay was looking at.

Tony was off in a corner of the reception hall holding Sally’s hand, their bodies close as they smiled at each other and talked. It didn't take a body language expert to tell that that wasn't how acquaintances or even _friends_ stood together. Gob’s stomach clenched at the sight.

“…He would’ve told me,” Gob said quietly, unable to stop watching, even as his felt like he was going to be sick, even as his brain oh-so-helpfully played Pip's warning about how he was private about relationships.

Suddenly, after sharing a laugh, Tony leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sally’s lips and Gob his shoulders tensed and he let out a sharp breath that he couldn't even hear over what felt like something  _shattering_ inside of him.

He eventually felt a hand rest on his shoulder as Lindsay’s voice quietly said, “I’m so sorry, Gob.” But why was she sorry? It wasn’t like there was anything to be sorry about. Tony was allowed to date people. It wasn’t a bad thing. Why should he be upset?

…Why _was_ he upset?

Gob shrugged her hand off his shoulder and went over to Tony as Sally walked away to do…something. Whatever. Gob didn’t care. He could only look at Tony.

He paused when he reached his friend, unsure of what to say. Finally, he just said what was on his mind. “Sally Sitwell? I…When…when did that happen?”

Tony gave him a sheepish look. “It was…really recently. Like, this past week. We ran into each other at a bar and one thing led to another…” He shrugged. “I know it’s probably breaking some bro code thing, dating your friend’s brother’s ex, but I figured if Michael’s happy with your agent and all…”

After a long moment, Gob nodded. “Yeah…yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m not mad or anything, and Michael definitely has no reason to be. I mean, he’s…he’s happy. With Anna. Like you said.”

“That’s great,” Tony said. He grinned and asked, “So, where’s Gary? I figured he’d have you covered with piano key neckties by now.” Tony laughed.

Gob didn’t.

“…We broke up, actually.”

Tony stopped laughing. “What?” He looked at Gob with concern, maybe even _pity_ , and shock. “When did that happen?”

“It also happened recently,” Gob said. “Really, _really_ recently. I…I just realized we weren’t supposed to be together.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to dwell on it,” Gob replied. “We had other things to worry about— _I_ had other things to worry about. Besides, it’s…it’s not a big deal. I’ve been through much worse break-ups. He…I…we weren’t even in love. It’s fine.”

Tony didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Gob nodded. “Well, Sally and I were thinking of going out to a bar. You know, a kind of party to celebrate the concert and everything. And it’s not a real party unless Gob Bluth is there, right?” Tony lightly nudged him and Gob felt a jolt run through his system, his stomach lurching as all these realizations just kept hitting him.

“…I have plans,” Gob lied. “I…family things. You know.” Tony nodded. “But thanks, yeah. Maybe some other time. Try to have fun without me—I know it’ll be hard, but...” Gob laughed awkwardly.

“We’ll try,” Tony said, still looking at his friend with concern. “And I’ll call you. You know, about other performances. And just to hang out.”

Gob nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. I look forward to it.” He swallowed roughly and said, “Congrats again. You did great.”

“You did, too.”

After a small silence, Gob nodded at Tony and turned around to leave. He walked quickly, gaining speed with each step as he went past his friends, his family, other people who had told him he done well, not stopping until he made it outside and felt the cold, desert night air on his face.

He searched his pockets only to realize he didn’t have any cigarettes on him. He didn’t have his keys. He didn’t have his music, his phone, his wallet. He didn't have anything. He’d have to go back in there and grab his stuff. He’d have to go back in there and see Tony with Sally. He’d have to go back in there and act like everything was okay, like _he_ was okay, like the best night of his life hadn’t suddenly turned into one of the worst.

Gob ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered to himself. He brought his hands down and looked up at the night sky.  

“I love Tony Wonder.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hey, thanks for reading! I hope you guys weren't lying when you said you love long chapters and I hope you liked this ridiculously long one! And I apologize SO MUCH for the wait. I had my sister's wedding, then a mad dash to finish my Christmas fic, then right after Christmas I had a trip to Disney then I was flying back to California then I started WORK! I got a job!!! Finally!! Life's been SO. CRAZY. But I'm still here and constantly trying to plan out this fic!
> 
> Just a few notes, since, as we all know, I can't shut up:  
> -I started planning on Anna and Michael from around chapter 4. There some symbolism with them being together I'll touch on later. Also, they make a nice comparison to Blunder with two people being "same".  
> -Scotch on the rocks _IS_ a standard drink order, but I know a lot of people give anyone who drinks scotch or whiskey on the rocks a hard time. In canon, Gob seems to have his on the rocks and Michael has it neat, so it seemed like a fun little plot thread lol  
>  -I know Buster technically lost his hand because of Gob in canon, since he was the one who released the seal and all, but I couldn't imagine letting that plot thread go, so...  
> -I'm so glad that there was an easy to find piano and violin cover of "The Final Countdown", because I had the idea for that months ago and I've been biting my tongue so hard to make sure I never revealed that because I loved that surprise!  
> -I'm not a huge fan of Schoenberg past _Pierrot Lunaire_ , but this song seemed to have the nice, crunchy affect I wanted from it all.  
> -Some ideas were very briefly touched on, I know, and they may seem unnecessary, but they will all be addressed, I promise. All the details were important and left in for a reason! A lot of it will be answered in just the next chapter, actually!  
> -I made a whole family tree for Tony so just you _wait_.  
>  -As always, the playlist can be found right [here](https://8tracks.com/valenciaperez/etude-no-3-in-g-sharp-minor-s-141)!
> 
> Again, thanks for reading this and I really hope you liked it and that it wasn't too long <3


	8. Gretchen am Spinnrade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Gretchen am Spinnrade"  
> by Franz Schubert (Op. 2)
> 
> [voice and piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTDIfoTnl3A) ([translation](http://www.lieder.net/lieder/get_text.html?TextId=17757))  
> [for solo piano](https://youtu.be/ozCirLYxSBI?t=23) (arranged by Franz Liszt, S. 558, No. 8)

  **Gretchen am Spinnrade (Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel)**

Gob had no idea how long he stood outside the Newport Orchestra, trying to build up the nerve to go back inside to get his stuff. Build up the nerve to see Tony again, to see him with Sally—

He truly felt like he was going to be sick at the thought.

When he heard the door open, he didn’t move. He just hoped to god it wasn’t Tony or Sally or any audience member wanting to tell him he did a good job. Eventually he felt a hand on his shoulder and made himself look over his shoulder.

Anna had his manicure kit. Michael had his keys—and he probably threw away his cigarettes, if Gob knew him, and he _did_ know him. And Lindsay had his bag with his sheet music binder; she was the one with a hand on his shoulder.

“…Do you want that ice cream now?” Lindsay asked softly.

Gob looked between all of them and, after a beat, let out a laugh. “You mean, like, celebratory, right? Yeah, of course! Why not? Or we could have drinks instead, the night’s still young, right? It’s been, like, the best night. Gotta celebrate it.”

Lindsay scowled as Gob took his bag from her and his keys from Michael. “You’re really going to pretend like you didn’t just run out of there at the sight of Tony with Sally?”

Gob scoffed. “What? I didn’t—I just needed some fresh air, come on! You saw how much I was sweating up on that stage; I needed to cool down.”

“You haven’t been on stage for, like, an hour now.”

“Yeah, well…I was still overheated. I feel better now,” Gob said, still forcing on a grin even as the other three were looking at him like _that_. Like he was about to have some nervous breakdown, like he was some sad sack, like he was someone to be pitied.

Gob Bluth was _not_ meant to be _pitied_.

“Okay, well, are you _sure_ you aren’t upset about the Gary stuff?” Michael asked, trying to play along with his brother.

Gob felt another stab at that. Yeah, maybe he wasn’t in love with the guy, but he still cared about him and liked him a lot. Losing him wasn’t particularly great, either. And combining it with the crushing realization he had fallen in love with a straight man who’d never love him back?

Yeah, Gob could feel more shattering inside of himself.

“Nope. It was time to end it. I told you I was fine with it yesterday,” Gob insisted, though his voice was far from convincing.

“Gob…” Lindsay said softly.

“Guys, I’m _fine_ ,” Gob insisted. “Better than, really. This was one of the best nights of my life. I just got compared to Kissin and Cziffra and I was basically offered a performance at the LA Phil _and_ a CD. Right, Anna?”

The twins turned to Anna and she said, “Well, yes. He did, and I’m really proud—”

“So, if you don’t mind, I wanna go celebrate—” Gob cut himself off when, in a random moment of chance, he looked through the glass doors behind the three of them to see Tony and Sally heading out towards the front entrance, their hands clasped and their fingers intertwined. He froze, his heart pounding as he gulped. It truly felt like he had been punched in the stomach or something, like Buster had gotten his revenge after all the times he had done that to him as a kid.

Lindsay, Anna, and Michael all followed his gaze before turning back to him. Gob looked back to them before looking back at the ground for a moment to collect himself.

“I know the perfect movie to watch for this situation,” Anna said hopefully. “Like, I really could’ve used it during my divorce since it's perfect for this.”

But when Gob looked back up at them, he was smiling once again. “I’m fine. Really. And, even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t want some nice night in. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” He joked, “And after months with Gary, I _really_ need to get _under_ someone, if ya know what I mean.” He winked, even as they rolled their eyes at him.

“Thanks for coming and all, but now it’s my turn to do just that.” Without even waiting to hear their reactions, Gob turned and left, soon climbing into his car and driving away, only remembering he didn’t take back his manicure kit when he was several blocks away. Fuck.

But instead of going to the Gothic Asshole or Queen Mary’s or even going back to try to get his manicure kit from Anna, Gob just drove himself home. He went straight to the kitchen, cracked open a new bottle of tequila, and brought it to his bedroom. If he had enough, maybe he’d forget about what had happened. Maybe he’d forget his regret for breaking up with Gary. Maybe he’d forget seeing how Tony smiled at Sally. Maybe he’d forget how he always ended up alone.

But deep down, Gob knew no amount of alcohol would make him forget that last part.

* * *

It took until Wednesday for Tony to make good on his promise to call Gob. And while Gob did his best to play it cool, he ended up agreeing to meet him for coffee in the early afternoon of the same day.

Gob, of course, was not a coffee person and only had it to wake up and focus in the morning. It was particularly helpful during those times he didn’t feel like getting out of bed. The only reason Gob agreed to coffee, besides for the whole being in love with the guy thing, was because he assumed the place would be like a Starbucks and he could get some sweet, iced, girly drink like he did whenever Lindsay took him out to one. But the menu was full of all these fancy names he didn’t know and when the person ahead of them ordered a regular coffee, he had to say what kind of _roast_ he wanted. What did that even _mean_? As they approached the register, he started to panic, because he _really_ didn’t want to look stupid in front of Tony.

“I’ll have an Americano,” Tony ordered at the counter. He turned to Gob, “What are you having? I’m buying.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I insist; I was the one who asked you to meet me here. I know coffee isn’t your thing,” Tony said.

Gob scoffed. “I…I have coffee, like, every day. It’s fine.” Before Tony could say anything else, Gob said, “I’ll have an Americano, too.” If Tony liked it, maybe he would, too?

When they got their orders, Gob thanked _god_ he was an expert in swallowing whatever was put in his mouth, since he managed to play off that he liked whatever bitter substance Tony seemed to be enjoying so much.

Why did he like him again?

“So, you said Anna got you a recital in Seattle, right? What are you going to do there?” Tony asked once they sat down.

Oh, right. Tony had that way of remembering important things and asking about his life and seemed to actually _care_ about his answers. That was definitely part of why he liked him.

_Loved_ him, even.

_Fuck._

They spent hours talking and even started to put together some plans for a possible chamber pieces to do, figuring out what parts they needed and brainstorming people to ask to join them. They could leave more technical stuff to Anna once they filled all the parts, of course. And, of course, they still had a lot of time until they could really make it happen. Tony had a summer full of performances starting in the next few weeks as well as a trip back home planned, and Gob had a meeting the next day with the guy from the record company, so it wasn’t like he had a ton of free time, either.

“Kinda sucks that I won’t get to see you, like, at all this summer,” Tony said with a frown.

“Yeah,” Gob agreed immediately. Trying to sound subtle, Gob mentioned, “It’s gotta suck for you and Sally, too. I mean, it’s so new and you won’t see each other for, like, _months_.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. It may not have been my best idea to start dating someone right before I’m basically gone for three months, but I guess sometimes things like this happen out of nowhere with less than perfect timing.”

“Definitely,” Gob agreed immediately. At Tony’s look, he just made himself drink some more of that awful, _awful_ drink before changing the subject.

But, eventually, the sun was starting to set and the coffeeshop was closing. Before Gob could even invite him over for a drink, Tony told him he had to get to a date with Sally.

Gob went back to his place and sat in his car for a while. The idea of going back inside alone seemed scary, daunting even.

After a while, he pulled out of his place and made his way back to the main road. Maybe he could see what the Queen Mary was offering.

After all, it _was_ Hump Day…

* * *

Thankfully, he always had music to distract him from the world around him. He had to prepare for his recital in Seattle that summer. He had to keep running the Paganini preludes, since he had indeed signed a recording contract, and those were the tracks for the first CD. He had to start perfecting the first Liszt Piano Concerto.

And, of course, he still had his piano studio to think about. Not only was business booming—there was extra interest after that review went up which, yes, also went up in his house in a nice frame next to his Queen vinyl collection by his piano—but his favorite student, as in Maeby, was finally ready to start working on some Bach.

“Okay, so, in order to play Bach, you _really_ have to understand him,” Gob told her after one of her lessons. “You really should for all composers, but Bach in particular.” Maeby nodded. That made sense. “So, that means it’s time to go into music theory,” Gob continued, opening up one of his books of Bach’s Preludes and Fugues on the coffee table of the model home’s living room. He beckoned her to sit next to him, but she hesitated.

Really, she loved taking lessons with her uncle. Part of it was because she liked playing, but a lot of it was due to the fact that she just loved hanging out with _him_. He was fun and they tended to think the same way.

Well, except, you know, what made the lessons so fun. She loved playing, but learning the theory behind all of this stuff? Having homework during her summer for her _hobby_? She couldn’t get _why_ she should enjoy that. But, after a moment, she sat down next to him and looked at the fugue he had opened to.

“Now, see, Bach did what everyone _claims_ Mozart did; he was really the one who single-handedly influenced music as we know it,” Gob said excitedly. “I mean, look at this B-minor fugue! It basically opens with a twelve-tone melody— _hundreds_ of years before Schoenberg invented that technique!” At Maeby’s confused look, Gob explained, “See, he’s created a melody using all the notes within an octave, which Schoenberg used as the basis of his twelve-tone method, AKA serialism, which he passed on to Berg and Webern, creating the Second Viennese School—not a literal school, but, like, a school of thought.” Maeby nodded and he added, “The First Viennese School being, of course, Haydn, Beethoven, and Mozart—sometimes Schubert is included there, too, but he’s really more of a Romantic era composer—but, then again, so is Beethoven, since he lived long enough to be solidly in the Classical era as well as the Romantic—”

“Uncle Gob?” Maeby interrupted. She knew just as well as anyone how her uncle could get sidetracked, and it seemed to be happening more and more lately. “You were talking about Bach?”

Gob blinked a few times and nodded. “Right, yeah. Bach. He really influenced everybody— _J.S_. Bach, to be clear. His kids wrote some stuff, but C.P.E. Bach, while more famous during his lifetime than his father ever was, was not _nearly_ as influential in the long run.” Before he could gear up on another rant, he looked back at the sheet music and brought out a pencil.

“So. Fugues. You start with a main theme in a single voice, like this,” Gob said, circling the previously mentioned twelve-tone melody. “That’s called the subject. You cannot have a fugue without a subject. Then that voice keeps playing with a counter-subject, and another voice comes in on the subject, and then another voice…” Gob circled those parts and continued showing all the repeats of the voices, the interwoven lines, and how it all ended together.

“And all Bach pieces end on a major chord, whether they are in a major key or not. So, this ends on B-major, even though the piece is in B-minor, and that’s called a Picardy third.” He circled the ended and said, “It was common practice back then and the guy was, like, super Lutheran, so I think it’s supposed to be, like, a happy ending. Hopeful.”

“So, he was religious?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure the only things he ever did with his life were go to church, write music, and have sex.” At Maeby’s look, Gob explained, “He had _twenty_ kids. That's not an exaggeration, he literally had twenty kids with two wives. But, yeah, he wrote the fugues and preludes and tocattas and all, but he also wrote multiple Passions and his B-minor Mass.”

“Lots of B-minor, huh?” Maeby pointed out, looking at the piece Gob had just marked up.

Gob laughed. “Yeah. I guess B works best with signing his name.”

“Signing his name?”

“Oh, yeah, I can’t believe I forgot that,” Gob said, taking the piece back. He drew a little treble clef and staff lines in order to write out four notes. “Bach ‘signed’ a lot of pieces he wrote,” he explained. “B-flat-A-C-B-natural. Because in Germany and a few other places in Europe, B-flats are called _B_ , and B-naturals are called _H_.”

“…Why?”

Gob shrugged. “Dunno. But you’ll find it in a lot of his pieces. And in a lot of other composer’s, too, especially during the Bach revival in the 1900s. Like Liszt used it at one point—wrote a whole piece based on the theme. Schumann, too, but Schumann also found a way to write ‘Clara’ into, like, everything.” Gob smiled proudly and nudged her since she was, after all, the Clara to his Liszt, as he had told her multiple times. “Kinda cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Maeby said, picking up her water and taking a long sip.

“Obviously, we’ll have to go into more theory and history while working on this, but this is a good start,” Gob said. “By the time you use this for your college auditions, you’ll be _perfect_.”

Maeby nearly did a real-life spit take.

“My _what_?”

“College auditions,” Gob repeated.

Maeby stared at her uncle. He had to be joking, right? “Uncle Gob…I’m not even sixteen.”

Gob shrugged. “So? I used stuff I had been working on for years for mine. Got me into Juilliard,” he said with a proud grin.

“But…I…” Maeby held back another sigh as she looked at her music.

That was yet another thing they definitely didn’t see eye-to-eye on. Yes, Maeby loved playing, but she had no plans on studying music. In fact, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to go to college at all. What was the point if she already had a job as a movie producer? Not that she could tell her uncle—or anyone else—about that. Or even that she didn’t want to pursue music for a career. She knew that would absolutely crush him after all the years of insisting she was his Clara Schumann.

“…Do you _really_ think I’m _good enough_ for Juilliard?” Maeby finally asked. Maybe he’d take the hint from that.

Gob thought about it. “Well, when you actually _try_ at things, you do a good job. So, yeah, as long as you actually work on this stuff, of course you can get in.” He smiled and said, “Hey, you may not be up to the level I was at your age, but you started after I did. You’ll catch up soon.”

Before Maeby could even think of what to say, Gob pulled out a piece of paper from his binder. “Obviously, you’ll need to do a pre-screening there and at most of the schools before you can be invited to audition, but these are the live audition requirements.” She took the sheet with wide eyes and he explained, “Their requirements are some of the strictest, so if you have all of these ready, you’ll be more than ready for any other school.”

If Maeby wasn’t already overwhelmed, the fact that she was actually speechless would’ve overwhelmed her. She was _never_ speechless.

Gob seemed to notice that. “Hey, Maebs, I know it’s a lot, but it’s fine. I mean, there’s no pressure for you to go to Juilliard.” Maeby sighed in relief until her uncle continued, “The school that really matters is USC.” He laughed and told her to start working on the fugue for next week before getting up and going to the kitchen.

Maeby stared at the paper in front of her, not even really taking it in as her cousin walked in. “What’s that?” he asked. She looked so lost which was a _weird_ look from her.

“College audition requirements.”

George Michael frowned. “But you’re not even sixteen yet.”

“I _know_.”

“And you don’t even want to major in music.”

“I _know_!”

“So, why don’t you tell him that?”

Maeby looked over towards the kitchen where her uncle had gone and then back to her cousin. “He wants this _so badly_ ,” she said softly.

“But you have no problem telling your parents you don’t want to do things they want you to do. You normally do the opposite of whatever they say.”

“Yeah, well…that’s _different._ He's going through a rough time right now and everything, too; if I told him, he'd be so _crushed_ ,” Maeby said. “Besides, I _do_ like having lessons with him. I don’t want to stop those. I just…” Maeby shook her head. “I can’t imagine doing this _professionally_ , you know?”

George Michael nodded back, though a small part of him still wished he had the ability to play anything good enough to get into Juilliard. Unless they started a woodblock program, he had no chance.

“ _God_ , he even wrote down possible pieces,” she whispered. “How much time did he spend on this?”

“Well, this _is_ what he does; he probably knows a lot of these on the top of his head,” George Michael reasoned. Maeby nodded after a moment.

She looked over the list and sighed again. “I can keep humoring him for a while,” Maeby said. “But if I have to learn all this stuff on top of work, I’m gonna need you to finish my homework _on time_ this school year, ‘kay?” Before her cousin could stutter out an answer, Maeby left the living room with a bright smile. At least that was one win for herself.

“…Where does she even _work_?” George Michael asked himself. After a moment, he shook his head and left the room, seeing as he had his _own_ job to get to.

Meanwhile, while Gob was in the kitchen, he poured himself a drink. He felt like he needed one in particular just for the fact that Michael, Lindsay, _and_ Anna happened to be in the kitchen all at once.

Gob had started stopping by the model home a lot more recently. It helped get him out of his house, where he was starting to feel caged-in. Without having work at the symphony to distract him, Gob felt _trapped_ at home. Just getting out of his house was great, enough times that he had come over to the model home just to practice in a new environment.

The problem of being there and hanging out with his siblings meant that sometimes they would try to bring up Tony. Thankfully, Gob could normally distract them with a well-placed question or comment. It didn’t take much, really. He could just ask Michael something about getting a mortgage on his house instead of renting it or tell Lindsay her hair looked extra shiny or ask if Anna had any other projects for him in the works. All of those subjects managed to get them to forget what they’d ask. Or, well, he assumed so. The subject would at least be dropped for a while.

But with all three of them there? Gob already grew tense at the idea of them bringing him up.

To help stop that before it even started, Gob asked, “So, Lindsay, are you and Tobias really going to move to Vegas? I know some good places for you to go check-out if you do.”

Lindsay blinked a few times and then shook her head. “No. I’m not going, at least. Maybe Tobias is—I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Are you going to finally divorce him?” Gob asked excitedly. He’d been waiting for that to happen for literal _years_ at that point.

“I don’t know,” Lindsay sighed. Obviously not wanting to focus on her own love life as much as Gob didn’t want to focus on his own, Lindsay asked, “How was Maeby’s lesson?”

“Great,” Gob said automatically. “It’s always great with her. I’m starting her on Bach,” he said proudly. “It means we get to start working more on theory and history. I gave her one of the B minor ones, which is my absolute _favorite_ , and it was _also_ what I used for my college auditions, so it’s gonna be a great good luck charm for her college auditions.”

“…Isn’t Maeby only fifteen?” Lindsay asked.

Michael gave his sister a look. “Shouldn’t you know that about your own daughter?”

“As I told _her_ , I used pieces on my auditions that I had for _years_. It means she’ll be extra prepared and perfect on them,” Gob said simply.

Anna pointed out, “It also means you can distract yourself from thinking about other musicians.” Gob raised his eyebrows at her and she smirked knowingly. “I mean, it’s pretty smart to start planning out audition rep and teach Maeby theory and history on top of it, since keeping yourself busy is the best way to deal with heartache.” Gob rolled his eyes and she continued, “I got divorced, remember? And I started working for you right around then, so I figure you remember how busy I kept myself.”

“And maybe you should be focusing on my own career instead of my love life,” Gob replied sharply. He went back to the living room to sit on the piano bench. Playing something would be better than dealing with another confrontation about Tony.

Of course, Anna followed him in and, soon enough, the twins were there as well. “Gob, I’m all for keeping you busy, but you need to at least _process_ it—”

Before she could continue, Gob said, “I was thinking of playing one Liszt’s settings of Schubert songs on the Seattle program. As an encore, you know.” He started playing a piece he was working on from that set, and once Anna recognized it, she just shook her head at him.

“Could you pick a more _obvious_ piece?”

Gob stopped playing. “What are you talking about? It’s not nearly as predictable for me as ‘Der Erlkönig’.”

Anna arched an eyebrow. “I meant that it’s obvious for what you’re going through emotionally. ‘Gretchen am Spinnrade’? Really?”

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lindsay raised a hand, “Yeah, I don’t, either?”

Turning to Michael and Lindsay, Anna asked, “Do you guys know _Faust_?”

“Something about a guy making a deal with the devil, right?” Michael asked.

“More or less,” Anna said. She walked over to the table where Gob had left his music binder and started to flip through it. “Schubert set Goethe’s poem from his version of _Faust_ , a poem called ‘Gretchen am Spinnrade’, meaning ‘Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel’. It’s a cool piece; the piano set up the whole spinning motif—you can literally hear the spinning in the piano part, and you can hear when her thoughts drift away when she stops spinning, how she has trouble starting it back up again after she stops it—very interesting.”

“I had no idea you knew all this stuff so well,” Michael said.

“It’s my job to know it,” Anna said simply. “Besides, it’s an important song in music history and I’ve heard it sung many, _many_ times.” She finally found the piece in Gob’s binder and was glad to see that Liszt had indeed kept the text attached to the melody and Gob, or perhaps someone with better handwriting, had written in the translation of the words.

“So, Gretchen is heartbroken and abandoned by Faust and is waiting for him, her mind spinning like the wheel, and then…hmm, what are the words she keeps repeating?” Anna read, “‘My peace is gone, my heart is heavy; I will find it never and never more.’” She gave a knowing look at Gob, who merely scoffed.

“It’s a great song, as you said. That was the only reason I wanted to work on it,” Gob said.

Anna continued to read, “‘Where I do not have him, that is the grave, the whole world is bitter to me.’” Again, Gob scoffed, but Anna flipped through a few pages. “Oh, yes, the part where she starts listing all of the traits about him. ‘His tall walk—’”

“Tony’s not tall,” Gob said immediately. “Maybe to _you_ he seems that way, but he’s tiny.”

“He holds himself in that way, though,” Anna said, not even blinking at him trying to insult her own height, or lack thereof. “Let’s see…‘His noble figure, his mouth’s smile, his eye’s power, and his mouth’s _magic flow_ ’—seriously, _magic_ —'his handclasp’—you _did_ hold hands to bow—”

Gob got off the piano bench and grabbed his sheet music from her, reading the next part, “‘And his kiss’? We’ve never kissed—I mean, there was a…a _moment_ , but—” Gob shook his head. “I just wanted to play a beautiful song. And the Liszt version is a great setting that makes the piano part even _more_ complex. That’s all.”

“Wait, there was a _moment_?” 

Gob sighed heavily. “It was…we were messing around and he started playing ‘Heart and Soul’ as proof that he _did_ know some piano, and then I played the version I played in piano bars, and—and, okay, he compared me to _Liszt_ , and we were really close together since we were sharing the bench, and, like, our legs were touching, but that was _it_.”

Michael crossed his arms. “That sounds like flirting to me. Or at least what counts as flirting with you.”

“Yeah, didn’t Gary compare you to Liszt before he first kissed you?” Lindsay asked.

 “Tony was just being nice,” Gob mumbled. “He didn’t know it was gonna get me going like that. It’s pretty clear that Tony’s _not_ gay.”

“…Are you sure about that?” Michael asked.

“He’s dating a girl, Michael, unless you know something about Sally I don’t,” Gob said. “Besides, I don’t date musicians anyways, so it’s not like I’d do anything about it even if he _was_ gay.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to give musicians a chance again, though?” Michael asked. “After all, you haven’t since Seth, and you guys  _really_ had something."

Gob dropped his head back and sighed heavily. When he looked back at Michael, he said, “Yes, I haven’t had a relationship that successful since Seth. I haven’t even had one half as successful…” Gob shook his head. “But I’m _not_ dating musicians again. Dealing with that…” It was painful, and he truly felt like he lost the ability to play after that, like some of the music had been taken away from him. It took  _months_ before he felt like he was playing as well as he used to; he knew no one else could really tell the difference, but  _he_ could.

“…Well, wouldn’t dating musicians give you a wider pool to choose from?”

Gob scoffed. “Don’t be homophobic, _Michael_. Not all musicians are _gay_.”

“Of course not,” Tobias said, having just walked in. “There are _plenty_ of heteros among the artistic world—like me, for instance. I’m as straight as Gob is,” he said, clapping a hand on Gob’s shoulder.

The rest of the room went silent, a mixture of amusement and confusion and frustration (mostly in Lindsay’s case) filling the air.

Gob looked at his brother-in-law. After a moment, he clapped a hand on Tobias’ shoulder in response. “Tobias…I’m gay.”

Tobias looked taken aback. “…What?”

“Yeah. I’m gay. Like, _really_ gay. Like I’ve been dating guys since before I even met you. Like, so gay that part of why I broke up with my last boyfriend was because he wasn’t a top and I like to be _fucked_.” Tobias backed up a little and Gob laughed. “Don’t worry, you aren’t my type. Besides, as I said, I’m looking for a top, and I know that ain’t you.” With that, Gob pulled his keys out of his pocket and grinned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to hit up the Gothic Asshole and see if I can find a top there.” He left without another word, though they could hear him chuckling in the deafening silence of the room.

Tobias was the first to say anything. “I…I-I didn’t know…”

“Yeah…you never do,” Lindsay said with a sigh as she stood up. “I think we really need to discuss that divorce now.” She left the room and, after a moment, Tobias followed her, still insisting that he didn’t know.

Anna and Michael looked at the two of them leaving, not speaking themselves until the door to their bedroom closed. “Well. I guess that’s progress of some sort,” Michael observed.

“I guess,” Anna said, moving to lean against the wall. “At least for _them_.” She tilted her head to the side in thought. "I should talk to her about it sometime. Divorcing and everything. Give her some advice."

“Yeah…”

Anna sighed. “God, I feel bad for Gob…Breaking up with someone and then realizing you’re in love with a guy who’ll never love you back in the same way? That’s hard.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. After a moment, though, making sure they were alone, he turned to Anna and quietly asked, “Do you really think Tony’s straight, though?”

“If he’s not, that would make the whole situation worse, don’t you think? If Tony chose to date Sally despite being gay?” She shook her head. “I just hope having space from him this summer will help him get over it. And hopefully I can finally get him to just…let it out. And watch the _perfect_ break-up-slash-heartbreak movie. That’ll help him.”

"Yeah…I don’t think _The Magic Flute_ can fix this one,” Michael muttered as he thought back on his limited experiences of dealing with his brother’s break-ups. He really _had_ missed most of them.

“…You know what I just realized?” Anna whispered with a smirk. Michael raised an eyebrow. “To quote Tiffany," Anna lightly sang, " _[I think we’re alone now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6Q3mHyzn78)_.”

Michael looked around him and smiled slyly, both of them laughing a little. “You’re right. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”

Anna grinned. “You like Tiffany?”

“I may have been dragged to one of her mall tours by Lindsay,” Michael said, pulling Anna in a little. “…And I may have not hated it as much as I pretended to, because she was pretty hot.”

Anna raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I should dig out some of my old ‘80s clothes sometime. Give you another concert to look forward to.” Michael grinned before Anna took his hand and led him back up to his bedroom, all thoughts of his brother’s love life completely gone from his mind.

* * *

The sound of one of “Für Elise” in a heavily synthesized form blared in Gob’s bedroom. He groaned and blindly searched for his phone on his night stand, still laying on his back. “God, I really need to change that fucking ringtone,” he muttered as he finally managed to grab it.

“’Ello?”

“Are you ready to get down on your knees and forever worship me as the goddess I am?”

Gob sat up on his free forearm, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he finally opened his eyes. “Anna? Are you sure you didn’t mean to call Michael?”

Anna laughed. “No, Gob, I _definitely_ meant to call you. Why would I call Michael when he’s sitting right next to me?”

“And, like you, we’re definitely still in bed,” Gob heard Michael say. “You’re on speaker, by the way.”

“Besides, Michael and I aren’t into that worship stuff. We’re _definitely_ more into the student/teacher roleplay.”

Gob groaned loudly. “ _Jesus._ Why do I have to hear about your kinky shit this early in the morning?”

“ _Payback_ ,” Anna and Michael said at the same time. Gob could hear them high-fiving each other and laughing and he rolled their eyes. Fine, it _was_ deserved after all the stuff he had told them about his sexual relationships. And, not to be sappy, but hearing his brother laugh with someone was a pretty welcome change.

It’d be more welcome if he wasn’t, you know, dealing with the being in love with a straight guy who would never love him back thing.

“Can I know why I’m going to worship you?” Gob asked. “Or am I supposed to be like Michael and just do whatever you tell me to do? Because, if so, we need to work out a fun safe word.”

“…Well, now you’re just ruining that for us,” Michael grumbled, making Gob smirk.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Anna said, “you know how you have that album coming out next month?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Which means we have to promote it as much as possible.”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Wouldn’t a magazine cover be a great way to promote that?”

Gob repeated, “Yeah. _Obviously_.”

“So, you have one month to get ready for the cover shoot and interview with _Poco_.”

Gob finally realized what was happening and suddenly felt wide awake. “Wait, what? The _cover_?”

“Hey, I asked you if you were ready to worship me forever,” Anna said simply.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get down on my knees for you, we all know I’m good at that,” Gob said, suddenly standing up. Noticing that there was definitely some guy still sleeping in the bed that he just realized wasn’t his own, Gob proudly noted, “I think this handsome stranger can attest to that…maybe. I don't remember what we ended up doing. It’s very possible I was just on my back.”

“…God, okay, we’ll address that later. Or possibly _never_ ,” Anna said, suddenly getting into serious business mode. “I want you to look _great_ on this cover, okay? So, I know you’re more of a social smoker, but you need to avoid that, okay?”

Gob wanted to complain, but instead he nodded and muttered, “Fine.” He looked around briefly until he found his underwear and pants from the night before. Gob slipped into them, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“Thank you. And maybe hit the gym and everything. Like I said, I want you to look good.”

Gob scoffed. “I haven’t had any complaints.”

“We need you looking better than ‘no complaints’,” Anna said rather sternly. Gob wanted to disagree again, but, recognizing that tone, he sighed and quickly slipped on his shirt.

“Fine.”

“Good,” Anna said. “And I need you to limit your drinking—and I _mean_ it. I know you won’t stop cold turkey, but try to go a bit slower, okay? And have some more water.”

Gob really wanted to protest that. What was he supposed to do if he couldn’t drink? But once he made sure he had his keys and wallet, he said, “Fine. But this better be worth it.”

“A cover of one of the biggest classical music magazines out there that you can show off to all those hook-ups of yours? Seems worth it.”

“True,” Gob said reluctantly once he got outside. He looked around and squinted his eyes in the sun, trying to figure out where he was—and where his car went. “…Does the smoking thing only apply to cigarettes, or should I start having edibles instead?”

Anna sighed heavily before saying, “…Edibles are better, yes.”

* * *

Okay, it wasn’t like Gob had never been to the gym before. Gob had _obviously_ gone to the gym and he actually liked it at times. To an extent. You know, he had enjoyed gym class in high school until he realized the whole gay thing, and sometimes it was nice to just do something physical and get out of his head. Hell, that was half of the reason why he loved playing piano, too.

But the real reason he loved going to gyms in New York, of course, had been to find hook-ups. There was a reason a lot of gay men went to the gym—or, well, Gob assumed that was the reason why a lot of them went, but some of them seemed to be just as intent on exercising as they were towards having sex. But whatever. The point was, Gob hoped he’d get his sweat on in more ways than one. So, he finally dusted off some of his gym clothes, got himself a membership to one of the local gyms, and almost immediately regretted it.

He had no idea what he was doing. There were all these fancy machines and there was a room full of women in sweat pants dancing and all these men grunting as they lifted weights—and not the pleasant kind of grunting, either.

But he tried. He half-heartedly went on a treadmill as he blasted Queen on his headphones…only to learn that the 45 minutes it took to listen to _A Night at the Opera_ was _way too fucking long_ to run to. He felt pretty powerful and great throughout all of “Death on Two Legs” and he enjoyed the irony of running to “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon”, but “I’m In Love With My Car” started to wear him out so much that by the time he got to “You’re My Best Friend”, he was gasping for air and needed to stop.

That was embarrassing.

Thankfully, once he collected himself and looked a bit less sweaty and gross, he _did_ manage to spy some eye candy. The other man seemed to spy him, too, and it didn’t take too long for them to start talking at the water cooler.

Gob was pulling out his A game, being his usual charming self as he did his best to focus on how the guy was hot, not on how he didn’t have Tony’s laugh or Tony’s sense of humor or how he wasn’t fucking Tony Wonder because there was no way Gob was ever going to be fucking Tony Wonder or vice versa anyways, so he needed to stop thinking about Tony Fucking Wonder.

And, really, he was doing a mostly good job. The other guy was smiling a lot, and he even flexed for him, which Gob appreciated, especially when it gave him an excuse to touch his arm.

Gob started to suggest, “You know, I was just thinking about hitting the shower—”

“Dad?”

Gob looked around; did the guy have a kid or something?

“Dad! Hey, dad!”

Oh. Right. _He_ had a kid. A kid who was a jock. A kid who would obviously have a gym membership.

“…Steve!” Gob said, trying to sound enthusiastic about running into his son. And it wasn’t like he was upset to see him or anything, not really. Well, at least not because it was his son or anything. It was just, you know, mid-hopeful-hook-up wasn’t the ideal time to see your son. Or for your possible-hopeful-hook-up to realize that you _had_ a son.

Steve wrapped his arms around his dad in greeting and Gob clapped his back a couple of times, fighting off the urge he had to tell him to beat it since he was in the middle of something. Once Steve pulled away, he looked over at the guy Gob had been talking to and said, “Oh, hey, Frank. You met my dad?”

Frank looked very confused and nodded. “Yep, sure did, Steve.” He looked between the two of them before saying, “I should go hit the showers.” Before Gob could even say anything, Frank left and Gob sighed. That was definitely never going to happen now.

“Frank spots for me sometimes; he’s a cool dude. But, hey, I didn’t know you worked out,” Steve said, snapping Gob back to the situation at hand.

“…I don’t,” Gob admitted. “Not for a while. But I have a magazine cover shoot in a month, and my agent wanted me to try…looking better.”

Steve nodded, still wearing that same, big smile. “That’s awesome! Do you need any help?” Gob paused. Did he look _that_ clueless to him? “I mean, working out with my dad sounds cool, and I could always use a spotter.”

Gob thought about it. As much as he didn’t really love the idea of working out when he couldn’t hook-up with someone at the gym, well…he _did_ need to find some way to bond with Steve that wasn’t just over cookies and old high school memories. And Steve seemed less likely to treat him like an idiot for not knowing how all the weight machines worked than anyone else he knew.

“Sure, yeah,” Gob said. “Sounds like a good idea.”

* * *

It was, in fact, _not_ a good idea.

Gob panted, bent over and gasping for air, and not at _all_ in the fun way. Steve ran in circles around him, not wanting to stop and let his heart rate slow back down.

Gob had only done a couple workout sessions with Steve and he had never been so tired or sore in his whole fucking _life_. He let Steve tell him what to do, let him choose the weights he did, the resistance exercises, all of that, and those were bad enough, but at least he could _breathe_. But now he was making him run and run and _run_ , and Gob had never felt so old (or regretted smoking) nearly as much as he did in that moment.

“Come on! You gotta keep going!” Steve said, his breath a little ragged from the run, but not nearly as bad as Gob’s. Gob shook his head, sweat stinging his eyes as he tried to gesture for Steve to keep running. “Come on, dad! Don’t be a pussy!”

Steve actually stopped running for a moment, suddenly looking worried, “That’s not homophobic to say, is it?”

“I…no…probably not,” Gob said, still having trouble catching his breath.

“Cool,” Steve said, starting to jog in place again. “Come on, let’s go!” He forced Gob back up to a standing position and, reluctantly, Gob started to follow him again. At least they had decided to run around the empty expanse of Sudden Valley instead of at the park or the gym. Steve had wanted to take advantage of the stair car, and Gob had wanted to stay as far away as possible from strangers who would laugh at how out-of-shape he was.

Still, when Steve finally said they were done after what felt like days of running in circles and up and down the steps of the stair car all interspersed with sit-ups and push-ups and all of that shit, Gob nearly collapsed in the A/C of the model home.

“I’ll go make us some protein shakes,” Steve said with what seemed like _way_ too much energy to still have after all of that work.

Gob nodded, leaning against the wall in the entryway as his son went to the kitchen he was getting very familiar with. Michael smirked at Gob as he walked over to his brother. “You okay there?”

“…I’ve made…a _huge_ …mistake,” Gob panted.

“Hey, you’re getting some bonding time with your son and doing something healthy,” Michael said. “That’s hardly a mistake.” He took in his older brother’s sweaty frame, though, and added, “But maybe you should tell him to take it down a notch.”

Gob shook his head. “Not…a pussy.” He wiped his forehead and then quietly said, “Please help me…to the kitchen.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but he pulled Gob off the wall and, thankfully, Gob managed to actually walk himself, though he was sure his legs were about to fall off.

“Here, dad,” Steve said as he handed him a shaker full of something that actually looked pretty good.

…It was _not_ good. It was chalky and weird and tasted awful, but Gob swallowed his first sip dutifully. “Spitters are quitters,” he mumbled to himself before chugging the rest of it down. He made a disgusted face as he wiped his mouth, but at least it was over.

“Yeah, I know they aren’t that good,” Steve said, “but they work really well after a good workout like that. And it’s a nice break from grilled chicken. That’s, like, all coach lets us eat during football season.”

“I’m so glad I never did football, then. I can’t wait until this shoot is done and I can stop with the chicken,” Gob said. “I haven’t had so many breasts in my mouth since I thought I was straight.” He laughed loudly at his own joke, but Michael just shook his head.

“Gob, he’s your _son_ , you shouldn’t—”

“Nice one, dad!” Steve laughed, raising his hand for Gob to high five, which he did enthusiastically.

Michael stared for a moment before shaking his head. He wasn’t even going to touch that one.

* * *

It was only a week or so later that Gob got the best news. For one thing, Lindsay actually finally started filing the paper to divorce Tobias and Tobias had even run off to Vegas. The even better news, though, was that his dad was back in jail after almost nine months on the lam. Not only that, but Michael said he wasn’t going to talk to him in jail anymore. In fact, he told the whole family they shouldn’t talk to him, and Gob was _ecstatic_. Between that and his cover shoot and his CD, things seemed to really finally be looking up for him.

That meant he was all smiles and laughs when he made his yearly visit to San Francisco. But, then again, he was normally all smiles and laughs when he visited the city. Not because of the city itself—god, even when he was there for Pride he hated how crowded and cold and _dirty_ the city was—but because he got to see Seth and his goddaughter for a week. Even dealing with Christopher was worth it to see them.

“Has Market Street always been this bad and I just forgot?” Gob asked at one point after they had finished running an errand.

“It’s only gotten better over the years,” Seth said.

“That is _terrifying_ to think about,” Gob muttered. He shook his head, “I have no idea why you’re still up here. Especially when Aria’s about to start school.”

“There are some good schools out here for her,” Seth said. “And, besides, the symphony pays well. And Christopher’s up for tenure at UCB.”

“You’d think you’d at least move to Berkley, then,” Gob pointed out.

“We like the city,” Seth replied simply. “And him commuting on BART with just a briefcase is a lot easier than if I had to commute on BART with a cello. And I _refuse_ to drive in this city.”

“That’s fair.”

Once they both said their goodnights to Aria, Christopher started to put her to bed and Gob opened up a bottle of wine. The two of them sat down on the couch and split it as they just talked. The San Francisco Symphony—one of the best symphonies in the world where Seth was up to _second chair_ cello, thank you very much—had only just finished its season the day before, so it was their first time since Gob had gotten there to just sit and talk and relax.

“I really think next year you should come down to my neck of the woods instead,” Gob said. “You can bring Aria. And even Christopher if he _has_ to. You can see my awesome house and Aria can see a _decent_ beach and she can even try a Bluth Banana.”

Seth chuckled. “I’m not letting my daughter around you and Bluth Bananas _ever_.”

“I only deep throated that one to make you laugh,” Gob insisted with a roll of his eyes. “But, come on, you could meet my son and see how much George Michael and Maeby have grown up—and you haven’t even seen the twins in _years_. I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

“And I would love to see _them_ ,” Seth agreed. “Michael and I still talk from time to time, but it would be nice to see him in person. I still feel bad that I couldn’t get down for the funeral…”

Gob nodded. “Yeah…I mean, he understands, you know. You had work…and, plus, it was probably the best with my parents and everything…”

“Yeah…How’s all that going?”

“My parents?” Gob smiled. “Pretty great. I mean, my dad’s in jail again, _finally_ , and Michael doesn’t even want any of us to see him, anyways, so we can finally just be done with him. And I’ve actually been going to my mom’s a lot more lately. You know, sometimes to play music or watch TV or read…” He laughed and admitted, “Okay, normally I’m just reading through sheet music and she’s reading through the paper, but it counts.”

“And it’s a nice distraction from your love life, right?” Seth asked as Christopher finally came to join them. “Because she still won’t acknowledge the gay thing.”

Gob narrowed his eyes. "How do you fucking do that every time?"

“Wait, your mom doesn’t know you’re gay?” Christopher asked as he poured himself some wine. “Has she _met_ you?”

Gob glared at him. “Not all of us were born with hippie, gender studies professor parents, _Christopher_ ,” Gob said. “She knows I’m gay, we just don’t _talk_ about it. My last boyfriend was my ‘friend’ Gary. And Seth was always my ‘roommate’.”

“She’s the biggest WASP you could ever meet,” Seth told his partner.

“And that’s coming from you?” Christopher teased.

“Trust me, my parents have nothing on his mom.”

“Your mom tried to set me up in the guest room for _both_ Christmases I stayed with you guys, and we had been roommates at camp years before that,” Gob pointed out.

Seth laughed. “I didn’t say we aren’t WASPs ourselves; I’m just saying that your family is WASPier than mine.”

Gob rolled his eyes. “Fine. But, yeah, okay, it’s kinda nice to have someone in my family who isn’t hounding me about the Tony stuff. I think that’s allowed. And Buster’s the same way—if _he_ even knows I’m gay, I’m really not sure.”

“Again, has he _met_ you?” Christopher asked.

“Buster is basically a child. A year ago, when I was living with my mom while looking for a place to say, Buster wanted me gone because he thought I was trying to ‘steal’ her from him,” Gob said. Christopher looked over at Seth, as if wanting confirmation that this was true.

“I met Buster one time and he’s… _interesting_ ,” Seth said. “He was, what, sixteen then? And he still followed his mom around the room and mumbled his answers.”

“Yeah, he’s basically the same now, just twice as old and missing a hand,” Gob said with a nod.

Christopher looked at Gob, expecting him to say he was just kidding at some point. When he didn’t break, Christopher said, “Damn. I actually think I want to meet your family someday just to figure out how true all of this is.”

“I don’t lie about my family,” Gob answered simply. “But, yeah, it’s nice to hang out with my mom nowadays. It’s nice not to be hounded over the break-up and Tony and everything. That’s all Michael and Lindsay seem to do nowadays. And Anna for that matter.”

“How are they hounding you?”

“They just want me to like… _talk_ about it,” Gob said, making a face. “I think they want me to do the whole ice cream and crying to a bad movie thing. ‘Process’ it or something. But I’m really doing _fine_. I’m not even seeing Tony around anymore, so I don’t get the big deal. I just…” Gob had a sip of wine and made a face. “I feel like they want me to cry over it and I just don't need to. Like, it sucks, especially figuring this out right after breaking up with someone, but I'm fine. And I know by the time Tony’s back, I’ll be over him. It’s really not a big deal.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t break up with Gary too hastily? And it wasn’t just because of Tony?” Seth asked.

Gob gave Seth a serious look. “Seth, I didn’t know how to tell you this over the phone, but…" he took a deep breath, "he didn’t like Queen.” Over all the years and all the people he had met, Seth was the only one who came close to his own Queen obsession, so he knew he'd understand.

Seth’s eyes widened in horror. “Are you _serious_?” Seth whispered. Gob nodded grimly and Seth shivered. “Oh my god…You made the right call.”

“I know.”

* * *

One day, just a couple of days before the photoshoot and interview and a couple of weeks after his trips to San Francisco and Seattle, Gob's body woke him up at, like, 5:30 AM for some fucking reason. He had given up on trying to understand his body’s sleep schedule a long, _long_ time ago. So, of course, Gob made himself coffee and practiced for a few hours before trying to figure out what to do for the rest of the day. He was going to meet Steve later to work out, since Steve was in summer school at the moment—he was set to finally graduate at the beginning of August, and Gob planned on being at the ceremony sitting right next to Eve, since he was actually really proud of him for sticking to it despite how much he had obviously struggled with it. But, yeah, anyways, Steve was busy until the afternoon, and Gob needed a break from practicing. So, he figured he’d go over to his mom’s place for a few hours.

He wore his work-out attire over and yeah, it was a little _much_ —he had discovered that those sweat-wicking clothes were better than the sweats he had been wearing, and, okay, maybe the pink shirt with the (fairly short) black shorts was really more of Tony’s color-pattern than his own and maybe it was sad and pathetic of him to wear it since it was like a sign he was missing him—but, whatever, it was comfy.

And he thought he was filling out those shorts _very_  nicely after weeks of those intense work-outs, thank you very much.

Gob stopped by the mail room, figuring he could be a good son and do a small errand for his mom. Then he went up to the penthouse and opened the door, flipping through mail as he did so. “Hey, mom, I didn’t know you subscribed to _Poco_ —” Gob called out, only to stop dead in his tracks as he saw someone on the couch. Someone he hadn’t seen for almost two years at that point.

“Dad,” Gob said, his stomach dropping and his heart pounding. While he knew there was a possibility that it was his Uncle Oscar, something about the man’s aura and his posture and his _everything_ made it clear that it was his father and not the uncle who actually somewhat respected him. Or at least _liked_ him.

“…Gob,” his father said, his seemingly permanent frown deepening at the sight of his son.

“What are you doing here?” Gob asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to be in jail. For _treason_.”

George rolled his eyes and pulled up the leg of one of his pants enough to show off an ankle monitor. “House arrest,” he said gruffly. He looked over Gob’s outfit and snorted. “Nice clothes. Very… _flamboyant_.”

Gob rolled his eyes and looked back down at the mail in his arms, taking out the coupons and other things his mom would want to throw away. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, dad; I’m a fag.” Gob hated that word, he really did. He had heard so many debates over the idea of “reclaiming” it along with other slurs he had heard his whole life, words that made his skin _crawl_ , and they were all useless fights to him. He didn’t care. Those words didn’t _need_ to be used, not _ever_.

But he also knew that if he called himself that, his dad would be less likely to use it. His dad would assume words like that didn’t make him want to throw-up or make his stomach drop in fear. And it would hurt a lot more to hear those words coming from his dad’s lips than they’d hurt coming from his own.

Just then, his mom walked into the living room, obviously in a great mood. “Gob! What a pleasant surprise.”

“Why is dad here?” Gob asked, not interested in any niceties.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” his mom said, looking genuinely _happy_. “Your brother arranged a deal with the warden for him to be on house arrest!” She put her hands-on George’s shoulders and leaned over him. “It’s so great having him back…helping with some _specific needs_.”

Gob always had a very visceral reaction to the idea of his parents having sex, and that innuendo was no exception. He fought the urge to gag but was sure he was about to until what his mom said finally registered in his brain. “Wait, _Michael_ arranged this?”

Lucille nodded, still smiling brightly. “Yes, he did. It was very thoughtful of him. It just happened yesterday—I still can’t believe it.” She gave his dad a big kiss on the cheek, making his dad grimace, and then stood back up straight. “I’ll go make us some coffee,” she said before walking to the kitchen.

Why didn’t Michael tell him that? Why didn’t _anyone_ tell him that? How come he didn’t get any warning that he was about to see his father? That the one place where he didn’t have to think about his sexuality or being single or any of that was gone?

“Why are you even wearing those clothes?” George asked, apparently still fixated on how gay his son looked. “Shouldn’t you save that for one of your homo clubs?”

Gob’s jaw tensed as he looked back at his dad. “It’s not a clubbing outfit,” he said tightly. “Though I’d _definitely_ get a lot of guys in this outfit, it’s actually for exercise. I have a cover shoot coming up. My son’s been helping me work-out.” He drew himself up taller and said, “Yeah, I have a son.”

George snorted. “I’ve heard all about this Steve Holt, yes.”

“Mom told you about him?” That was weird. His mom barely knew Steve and didn’t really seem to be interested in getting to know him at all.

But his dad shook his head, opening up the newspaper. “I heard you talk about him.” Gob raised his eyebrows. What? “I heard you talking about him in the model home. Your brother was helping me hide there.”

Gob couldn’t believe his stomach could drop even lower than it already had. “…When?”

George shrugged. “Most of this last year.”

“…No.” Gob felt a wave of some powerful emotion he couldn’t identify sweep up all over him. “No. He didn’t—Michael wouldn’t—Michael wouldn’t break the law, he—”

“He did,” George said firmly. “I was in the attic ever since the funeral you threw for me—by the way, I do _not_ want you playing at—”

George didn’t get to finish that thought, since Gob left the penthouse, slamming the door loudly behind him.

* * *

“Michael!” Gob called out as soon as he entered the model home. “Michael!” Gob walked into the kitchen only to find Michael still in his robe with Anna wearing what looked like one of Michael’s button-downs. She was basically drowning in the shirt, which he supposed looked cute or whatever, but he was so on edge that seeing her in anything of his brother’s just made him angrier. Not only had Michael hidden his father’s whereabouts from him, but he was making a mark on one of his best friends/agent.

“Michael,” Gob said, his voice dark and low as he walked towards the counter. “I was just at the penthouse.”

Instantly, Michael looked guilty. “I…yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about dad. It just happened yesterday and it was all so fast, and then I had a date and it got late—”

“You got him on house arrest,” Gob said, not interested in hearing Michael’s excuse for not telling him.

“…Yes. I thought sticking him with mom would be a better punishment—”

“And you hid him in the _attic_?” Gob asked. Michael looked surprised that Gob knew that. “Dad told me. Funny enough, he has no problem talking to me when it comes to stuff he _knows_ would piss me off. And if even _he_ knew it would piss me off, you’d think that _you’d_ know that, too.”

Anna looked nervously between the two of them as Michael seemed to try to think of what to say. “…I know what he did was stupid,” Anna finally said, trying to fill the silence. “I’ve told him that _many_ times now. Michael’s _very_ lucky he’s not in jail right now.” She gave Michael a glare before turning back to Gob. “But your dad will be back in jail in no time. Michael’s going to have him plead guilty and he’ll be gone again before you know it.”

Gob coldly replied, “I’m glad my agent got to know about my dad before I did.”

“Gob, I’m sorry,” Michael finally said softly. “I know…I know you and dad aren’t in a good place—” Gob gave a loud, harsh laugh at that. “Okay, yes, that’s putting it mildly. But…but I felt bad. He came back from Mexico when he saw mom kissing Uncle Oscar in the newspaper, and he seemed desperate to win her back, and—”

“And you hid him _in your house_. A place I thought was _safe_ ,” Gob said tightly. “And took him to the penthouse.”

“…Gob, I’m sorry.”

Gob remained silent. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe that the person he trusted most, the person who knew him best, the person who knew just how badly his father had treated him, had invited him into his house and let him hear everything he ever said there. He couldn’t believe his brother would betray him like that.

“Are you…are _we_ okay?” Michael asked, very concerned about how his brother was looking at him and how he was still silent. It wasn’t a good thing when his brother got silent like that.

Gob looked at Michael. Part of him wanted to yell at him, tell him how of _course_ they weren’t okay—how _could_ they be after he now made him feel unsafe in the model home and unwelcome at his mom’s? Part of him wanted to re-create all those Boyfights attempts his father had tried decades ago.

But that was when he realized why his dad had told him that. He knew his dad had told him all of that in order to upset him, in order to make it clear that Michael had chosen him over his own brother. That sick bastard _knew_ that it would be the thing that would hurt Gob most.   

So, Gob wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He put on a winning smile. “Never better,” Gob said, almost convincing himself that he was fine. While Anna looked doubtful, Michael seemed to relax at that. “You did what you had to do. I can’t blame you for that.”

“Thanks, Gob,” Michael said in relief. He walked around the counter, his arms reaching out to hug him, just like he knew Gob liked to resolve fights.

But Gob stepped back and said, “Gotta go meet Steve. I’ll catch you later.”

And, for the first time in his life, Gob left Michael hanging, Michael’s arms not falling back to his sides until the front door closed behind his brother.

* * *

Once the photoshoot finally hit, Gob had to admit he felt better than ever. You know, at least physically. And the dieting and exercising and everything was definitely evident in his appearance. It wasn’t like he was posing shirtless or anything, but he definitely filled out the shirts they put him in much better and that wasn’t even touching on how much better his ass looked in those pants, either.

Besides that, the photoshoot part wasn’t a huge deal. The photos weren’t anything fancy, mostly just a lot of profile shots and a few gratuitous photos of him playing at a piano. It was simple, but it was fun. Gob always loved being the center of attention, after all.

That was part of what excited him about the interview part. Of course, after he changed out of the photoshoot clothes for the interview, he called Anna just as she had instructed him to for some prep.

After a few basic reminders, such as keeping swearing to the minimum, Anna said, “And you know they’re going to ask about the company. And your father. And the boat party.”

Gob sighed heavily. “What do I say to that?”

“Well, you have a few options,” Anna said thoughtfully. “One option would be to simply say ‘no comment’. Another would be to give some sort of non-answer. Like, if they ask if you think he’s guilty or not, you could say that you don’t know and leave it at that.” Gob nodded; he figured that would be pretty good. “And another option would be to be honest…it’s really your call. Whatever you decide, I’ll support it.”

“And you think Michael will be okay with me being honest? And you’d be okay if he _wasn’t_ okay with it?”

For a moment, Anna was silent. Finally, she said, “This interview is about _you_ , so if he’s not okay with it, that’s his problem. It’s admittedly a bit complicated with our whole… _situation_. But this is about making _you_ look good. I would obviously prefer if you said good things about the company, but I don’t want you to say anything you don’t want to. Truly.”

Once they got off the phone, Gob took a deep breath and headed off to meet the interviewer. After all of his frustration from the past week, Gob had no idea how he’d respond to any of those questions, but he was sure he’d end up surprising himself somehow.

 

* * *

About a week before the magazine was set to be released, Gob was given a preview copy. He read through the interview repeatedly, a million different emotions running through his head at all times. Pride at getting a cover (and looking good doing it), happiness at how well the interview went…and maybe a bit of fear that he had been too honest.

After he had it for a day, he finally went over to the model home to meet up with Anna and talk about it. They didn’t plan on meeting up or anything, but Gob just had a feeling she’d be there; she seemed to spend all of her time out of work there. And, sure enough, when he pulled into the driveway, he saw her car parked outside.

Once he got inside, he easily found her in the kitchen drinking coffee with George Michael.

“It’s just kinda funny, you know?” George Michael said with one of his trademark, awkward laughs. “You’re dating my dad and your name’s _Anna_ and, you know, I’m dating _Ann_.”

Anna looked confused. “… _Who_?”

“Ann? My girlfriend?” Anna still looked confused. George Michael said, “You…you met her. She came over last week?” Anna still had a blank look on her face. “You had a whole conversation about Northwestern?”

Slowly, Anna had a look of realization. “ _Her_?” She nodded. “Oh, yeah, of course. I thought you said _Ann_.”

“I did.”

“Right, right. Sorry, it’s just confusing with similar names and I haven’t finished my morning coffee—hey, Gob!” Anna said, clearly glad for the distraction. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” Gob said. George Michael excused himself to get ready for work and Gob handed Anna the magazine. “I got the preview.”

Anna eagerly took it when she realized what it was. “That’s a perfect cover photo—look how good you look!” She grinned and asked, “Have you read it already?”

“Yeah, like, twenty times,” Gob said.

“What do you think?”

He hesitated to answer, but he finally said, “I think I did a good job.”

“I’m sure you did,” Anna said with a smile. With that, she opened up the magazine on the kitchen counter and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Medium-business mode. Gob watched as Anna flipped through to his interview. “Beautiful photos,” she said as she scanned over the photos in the spread. She flipped through a few pages to look at all of them before flipping back to the first one and reading the article and interview.

Anna, it turned out, was a fast reader. Gob watched her lips move slightly every now and then, her eyes quickly moving side-to-side as she read the words in front of her. She laughed every now and then, or told him he gave a great answer to a dumb question.

Gob looked down as she turned to the last page, knowing from his own repeated readings just exactly what quote she was going to stumble on next. And when she gasped quietly, he knew she had hit it.

“Oh, wow,” Anna said quietly. She looked over at Gob until he looked back over at her. “You… _Gob_ …”

“Yeah…” Gob shrugged, partly sure he was going to get yelled at.

Instead, she pulled him into a hug.

“I…what?”

“Gob, I’m so proud of you!” Anna said. Gob still was completely lost. “I can’t believe you actually said it!”

“…You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?” Anna asked, pulling away to look at him in the eye. “God, why are you so fucking tall,” she muttered to herself. She moved to sit on the island, making it a lot easier for her to look in his eyes. “Gob, I’m really proud of you. Honestly.”

“Won’t it make things… _harder_?”

“I don’t know. Things have changed a lot these past few years.”

“…What about the trial? The Bluth Company?”

Anna frowned. “Well…my job is to worry about _you_. And it wasn’t _that_ inflammatory.”

“What wasn’t that inflammatory?” Gob and Anna both immediately turned as they heard Michael’s voice. They looked at each other and then back at Michael as he saw what they were looking at. “Oh, is that your cover? It’s out already?”

“…No,” Gob said slowly. “They sent me a preview.”

Michael looked suspiciously between the two of them. “Did you say something inflammatory about someone?”

“No,” Anna said. “Well, okay, maybe _slightly_ inflammatory, but he was just being honest.” Michael frowned and Anna rolled her eyes. “It really isn’t that bad. Take a look for yourself.”

Michael took the magazine and Anna pointed out the part she was talking about. She put her hand on his shoulder as he started to read, his eyes scanning a bit slower than Anna’s as he read through the section Gob was sure he had memorized at that point.

**_PM:_ ** _Was it difficult growing up in a business family when you’re so artistic?  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _[Laughs] Yeah, you could say it was difficult. But being a Bluth has its own difficulties._

**_PM:_ ** _Especially recently.  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _Yeah, definitely. I kind of regret not going by my nickname sometimes, since having the same name as my dad definitely didn’t help matters._

**_PM:_ ** _It’s a great time to be George Bluth II, but it’s not such a good time to be George Bluth, Sr.  
 **GB:** Yep. [Pause] I’m sure you want to ask about all of that stuff, right?_

**_PM:_ ** _Well, I can’t deny I'm interested in the case. Do you think your dad’s guilty?  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _[Pause] I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know my dad well enough to say if he’s even smart enough to pull that sh—stuff off. It sucks that all of this attention is on him when he’s not even in charge anymore. My mom [Lucille Bluth] is the current CEO of the company and my younger brother [Michael Bluth] is the president. They’re the ones running the show now and the company’s doing a lot better under them, honestly. [Laughs] Not that I really know anything about the business._

**_PM:_ ** _Did you ever have an interest in working there?  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _[Laughs] I’m pretty sure my parents decided I wasn’t going to work for them by the time I was four. It would’ve been nice to be asked, but I prefer piano by a long shot and I’ve always been good at it. It drives my dad crazy, but my mom has always liked it._

**_PM:_ ** _So, your history with your dad isn’t great, is it?  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _That’s putting it mildly. Everyone knows about the boat party thing._

**_PM:_ ** _Right.  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _I was so sure I’d never work again after that. I’m so grateful the Newport Orchestra took me in. Playing for the place where I first really heard classical music was a great experience. And working with Tony Wonder was better than I ever could’ve imagined._

**_PM:_ ** _He’s a great artist.  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _And a cool guy._

**_PM:_ ** _Definitely. But, back to the boat party, do you have anything you want to say about the incident? I know you haven’t had a chance to talk about it publicly.  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _[Pause] You know, that party was the first time he had said more than five words to me together in about fifteen years. So, I was insulted all day and then punched in the face and it ended up almost ruining my career. It wasn’t a good day all around._

**_PM:_ ** _Was it always like that growing up with him?  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _There wasn’t much punching, but there were a lot of insults thrown my way. If I hadn’t had Michael and Lindsay [Fünke, sister] growing up, especially Michael and especially during college, I don’t know if I would’ve made it, honestly. I don’t know if my dad’s a criminal, but I know he’s not a good father or a good person._

**_PM:_ ** _Wow. And he insulted you for playing piano?  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _I think that’s what made me his least favorite. But he started to really hate me once I came out to him, which was the whole reason why he hated piano in the first place._

**_PM:_ ** _He thought it made you gay?  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _More or less. He hinted at it for years and when the truth finally came out, he stopped talking to me. I moved to San Francisco with my then boyfriend, ended up moving around a lot, and then, yeah, fifteen years later, boat party._

**_PM:_ ** _Wow.  
_ ** _GB:_ ** _Yeah…_

**_PM:_ ** _So, your signature composer seems to be Franz Liszt. How did you first discover him?_

Michael looked up from the magazine at that point. “Wow. That was…Wow.” He looked over at Gob. “Hey, I’m proud of you for saying that.”

“Thanks.”

“And it’s not _that_ inflammatory, right?” Anna asked.

Michael took a few moments to collect his thoughts. “Well…not against the company, no. You said we’re in good hands, so that’s good…how this might affect the trial, I don’t know…but that’s something for our lawyers to worry about.” He sighed and Anna rubbed his shoulder for a moment.

“I need to head to the office,” she said. She gave Michael a quick kiss on the cheek and then turned to Gob. “Seriously, I’m really proud of you. That was a _great_ interview.” She quickly gave him a hug before hopping off the counter and heading off to work, the front door closing behind her.

“Don’t you have some conservative investors?” Gob asked Michael once she left. “Do you think they’re gonna get upset over this?”

Michael looked over the magazine again before closing it. “I mean, it’s a classical music magazine. How many people are going to be reading it?”

Gob bristled at his brother’s words, but Michael didn’t seem to notice as he went to pour himself some coffee. Gob picked up the magazine and looked at it. He had been so excited to get the cover, to get a full interview…He shook his head at himself and headed out of the kitchen.

“It’s really cool that you’re on the cover—” Michael turned back around only to find that his brother had left, the front door soon closing behind him.

* * *

The day the magazine came out, Gob’s phone started blowing up. There were a lot of friends popping up, some of whom he hadn’t talked to in forever, some of whom he spoke to all the time, all telling him they loved it. Seth called to tell him how proud he was. Nancy had the same sentiments—and also told him she never liked his father, anyways. And, in a call that made him want to both smile forever and sob into his pillow, Tony called to tell him basically the same thing everyone said. It was just so much better to hear those words leave Tony’s mouth, knowing that he made _him_ proud.

…God, he had it _bad_.

For a while, Gob assumed that would be it. Michael was right; who would actually read the magazine? He didn’t see any big headlines around it or anything and it was only his music friends who had called him. Who really cared about it, anyways?

But then, a few days after it was released and a day after his album had been released, Michael said their parents wanted to have a family meeting about the interview. And that was when Gob remembered that, oh yeah, his mom got the magazine in the mail.

Initially, Gob entertained the idea of just not showing up. What was his dad going to do? It wasn’t like he could leave the house and try to find him or something. But he knew if he didn’t go, they’d never let the whole thing go. It was better to get it all over with.

He was also extremely against the idea of having it at the penthouse, but he agreed that it wasn’t something they would want the kids to accidentally walk in on. So, again, Gob complied.

That didn’t mean Gob just completely complied, of course. Without consulting anyone on the matter, he made sure Anna would come with him. Anna would serve as a good mouthpiece if—well, _when_ —Gob got flustered. After all, much like Michael, she was good at being unemotional and calm during all things, including confrontations.

Gob picked her up from her apartment and couldn’t help but notice that, along with the usual Serious Business Mode tight bun and heels, she was wearing a pearl necklace and matching earrings. That _really_ meant business.

“Someone’s ready, huh?” Gob commented as Anna adjusted her blazer.

“You realize this is also the first time I’m meeting your dad, right?” Anna said.

Gob scoffed. “You don’t need to impress him.”

“I know. But if what you’ve said about him is true—”

“It is—”

“Then I need to make sure I’m at my A-game.” She pulled down the passenger side mirror to look over her make-up. “And I may have met your mom, but I know she hasn’t taken me seriously yet. She’s going to be testing me.”

“You can take her.”

“I know,” Anna said simply. “I just want _her_ to know that. It’ll save us all some time.” She closed the mirror and looked back at Gob. “But, regardless of time, you’re going to take the long way there. There’s no need to show up on time for this. We have the power here, so we might as well use it.”

Gob had no problem with that. Hey, now that he was officially out as gay, he had the right to be as dramatic as he wanted, entrances included.

Once they slowly meandered their way up to the penthouse door, Anna pulled Gob to the side and put her hands on his shoulders. Thankfully the height difference was much less significant with the heels she had on, but he still squatted down a little to help. “From what you’ve told me,” she whispered, “I’m guessing your dad is going to try to upset you. Don’t let him win, okay? Do your best not to react now and leave the talking to me if you have to. Got it?” Gob nodded and she gave him a small smile before lifting her hands off of his shoulders and telling him to stand up straight.

Anna adjusted the blazer of her pantsuit one last time and made sure Gob was polished before opening the door for the both of them to the mostly silent penthouse.

“You guys didn’t wait for me to start, did you?” Gob asked sarcastically as he walked into the living room. He made sure to sit on the opposite side of the living room as his dad by sitting, of course, on the piano bench. His mom was sitting next to his dad, her lips as pursed as ever as she avoided looking at him. Buster was pale-faced and nervous from where he sat on the couch, the side closest to his mom. Lindsay and Michael took up the rest of the couch, Lindsay smiling slightly at her brother’s line whereas Michael looked grim faced at what was to come. When he noticed Anna, he lit up for a moment, only to frown when he saw the look on her face. That combined with the fact that she came with Gob and that she had chosen to remain standing meant things were going to get complicated.

“So,” Gob said. “Who’s gonna yell at me first?”

“I don’t think there’s any reason to yell,” Michael said calmly. Gob held back a laugh; Michael had to know that was a futile effort right then and there.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” George asked his eldest son immediately, ignoring Michael’s words. “What made you think it was a good idea to say any of those things?”

“What? You mean when I agreed that my signature composer _is_ Liszt?” Gob asked with a fake smile. “I was just telling the truth.”

“Even _you_ aren’t dumb enough to think I care about that,” George said, his eyes narrowing. “You told them about being a fruit and said those things about _me_.”

“Oh, you mean when I told them how you hate me for being gay, how you barely spoke to me for fifteen years and then punched me in the face, and that you’re a terrible father?” Gob said. “Yeah, again, I was just telling the truth.”

“All things they’re going to bring up in my trial! To try to ruin my character so people believe I did something that I _did not do_. I was set up!”

“Gob  _also_ insisted that he didn’t know if you were guilty or not,” Anna said, her voice's lack of emotion on par with Wayne Jarvis. “He even implied that there was no way you could’ve committed the crimes you’ve been accused of. I don’t see how that should bother you.”

“And _who_ are you?” Lucille asked Anna. Gob rolled his eyes; she obviously just wanted to get under Anna’s skin by pretending she didn’t remember her.

Of course, Anna wasn’t going to fall for that.

Anna coolly said, “Oh, I’m sorry; I should’ve realized you’d have trouble remembering these things at your age.” Lucille’s mouth tightened into a straight line whereas Gob saw Michael’s lips twitch upwards and Lindsay didn’t even bother hiding a laugh at that. “We met at the Paganini concert. My name’s _Anna Mitchell_.” She pronounced her name with crisp consonants, as if she was talking to someone with a hearing problem. “I’ve been Gob’s agent for nearly a decade now. And I’ve also been dating Michael for the last few months, so I’d get used to me.”

George stopped scowling long enough to give his son an impressed look. “I never got a good look at her in the vents. You got _her_? Good job.”

Anna and Lucille both rolled their eyes. “Don’t you dare high five him,” Anna warned Michael. 

Lucille looked her up and down. “And you don’t think there’s a conflict of interest right now? Seeing as your boyfriend is the face of our company?”

Anna didn’t falter. “I don’t see how it is. Gob had only nice things to say about Michael in the interview. You, too. I have no idea why he had nice things to say about you, but he did.”

Lucille’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And you let him say that stuff? All those… _personal_ things?”

“Gob’s an adult who can make his own decision on what to say,” Anna said calmly. “I didn’t tell him to say or not say anything regarding his sexuality. He chose to say that out of his own free will.”

“And you don’t think that’s going to hurt his career? Including that ten-percent cut he gets you?” Lucille fired back, an eyebrow arched.

Anna simply smirked back calmly. “I know you might have trouble keeping up with your years, but we _are_ in the twenty-first century now; not everyone has the same backwards view as you and your husband do.” She looked over at Gob and gave him a genuine smile before turning back to his mom with fire in her eyes. “I meant to save this as a surprise for him, but the buzz of the interview is already getting him great press. We’ve been contacted by some major newspapers wanting an interview, and even a few gay magazines and websites who see him as an inspiration, especially for those who grow up with less than supportive parents.”

Gob didn’t even have time to react to that news before Anna continued, “Not only that, but his record sales are higher than expected. The interview really helped undo the damage that the fight on the boat did to his career.” She tilted her head in mock-thought and said, “And…wait a minute, wasn’t it a fight that _your husband_ started when he was getting arrested for embezzling money _and_ committing treason in post-9/11 America? Because, if I was as worried about your company’s image as you claim to be, I’d be distancing myself very far from the man accused of those crimes who also happens to now be known as someone who’d attack his own son.”

Lucille looked Anna up and down slowly, apparently impressed. Hell, _Gob_ was impressed; he had never seen her take down someone that easily. But, after a few moments, Lucille said, “I still can’t imagine our investors are going to be happy with him saying he’s… _that way_. And there will definitely be others in your field who’ll be upset over it.”

“There will be some members of the classical music community who won’t be okay with it,” Anna agreed. “But most of them won’t care. It’s not like he went around dressed only in a rainbow flag. He was very calm and matter-of-fact about the whole situation.”

“Calm? He was so _dramatic_ about it,” George said with a snort. “Acting like I was a bad parent for not wanting him to be a limp-wristed fruit.”

“I think if anyone’s being dramatic, it’s the people who called a family meeting for the fact that their son said something publicly that they already knew,” Anna said coldly.

George ignored her and turned to his wife. “It’s all your fault, you know. It’s always the mother’s fault when a boy turns out to be a queer.” Gob couldn’t stop himself from flinching at that word, as much as he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to show any weakness around his dad.

“Oh, _please_!” Lucille said dismissively. “No one would believe a woman like me would have a gay son!” Gob’s jaw clenched tightly as he stared at a spot on the ground, willing himself not to react. “If anything, it’s _your_ fault he’s as flaming as he is!”

Lindsay tried to interject, “Maybe it’s no one’s fault and Gob was just _born_ that way!”

Of course, neither of their parents paid attention to that.

“How would it be my fault? I was the one who tried to toughen him up! I didn’t encourage any of this!”

“And made him feel so hated that he sought out comfort from other men!” Lucille responded, her eyes narrow.

“You _encouraged_ all of his…his _artistic_ bullshit,” George insisted. “You let him watch all of that soap opera with you—of course that would turn him into some big homo! And _you_ were the one who taught him how to play piano anyways and let him continue to play—”

“Do you think I encouraged this somehow? Do you think I _want_ him to be this way?”

Suddenly, Gob couldn’t hold it back anymore. He couldn’t stop his reaction. He couldn’t keep it hidden like Michael or Anna; he couldn’t stop his emotions from pouring out of him.

Suddenly, Gob started to laugh.

It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t ironic. It wasn’t hysterical. No, Gob was just honestly _laughing_ at how _ludicrous_ the whole scene was.

Everyone stopped talking and looked to him, and he finally lifted his head back up. “God, this is just…so fucking _dumb_.” He shook his head, still laughing under his breath as he thought about everything that had happened.

He stood up and said, “This wasn’t some big family secret. This isn’t some news to _anyone_ here—”

“I didn’t know,” Buster pointed out, self-consciously rubbing his hand over his hook.

Gob looked at his baby brother and tilted his head a little. Huh. “Hey, I’m sorry about that, man. I thought maybe mom or dad might’ve said something about it.”

“Why would we want to talk about it?” George asked.

Of course, Gob chose to ignore him.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but, yeah, that’s why I stayed away for so long, that’s why I don’t have a girlfriend, and that’s why dad hates me. If you have any other questions, we can talk about it some other time, okay?”

Buster looked concerned, but he still nodded before shooting a look at their father.

“But this dumb argument?” Gob laughed again. “Jesus, there’s _no one_ to blame. I just like guys. You’d think you’d be more sympathetic to the situation after all the cocks you had to take in prison.” His father seemed to want to get up at that comment, but thankfully Michael leapt up and managed to keep him more or less restrained.

“And, dad? I know that _artistic_ means _gay_ in this family, but it doesn’t in the real world. Me playing piano has _nothing_ to do with me being gay. You know what makes me gay? The fact that I love cock.” Both of his parents made faces at that, and even Michael winced a little. “And not all musicians are gay, so you can’t blame mom for helping me learn something that has made my life so much better than it would be otherwise.”

There was a small silence and Gob rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to go, because I don’t have to sit here and listen to you talk about me. I’ve gotten enough of that my whole life.”

Gob turned to go when his dad said, “Yeah, you’d rather have them talk behind your back.”

Gob froze, but after a moment he turned to face his dad. “If that’s supposed to be some joke about me liking to get fucked, you should know I already make those jokes myself.”

His dad looked disgusted at that and shook his head. “No. I mean I heard what people said in that model home over there. What all they said about you when you weren’t there.”

Somehow, the air in the room got even tenser as Gob looked at his father questioningly. After a long moment, Gob said, “So? Everyone talks about everyone when they’re not there. People come up in conversation.”

George smirked. “Do they talk about how pathetic other people are? Or is that just how people talk about you?”

“What?” Gob asked. “Who’s said anything like that?”

Anna shook her head. “No one; he’s just trying to upset you—”

“You don’t remember telling Michael you felt sorry for him?” George asked.

Gob looked over at Anna, expecting and hoping her to deny it. Instead, she looked tense and, for the first time ever that Gob could remember, completely caught off guard. “I…I didn’t call him pathetic,” Anna said firmly. At Gob’s look, she insisted, “I _didn’t_.”

"You _implied_ it before rejoicing in the fact that he left you and Michael alone,” George responded simply. Before Anna or Michael could say anything, he continued, standing up and walking behind his chair, “Maeby and George Michael talked about you all the time, too. Maeby’s only taking piano lessons because she feels sorry for you—she doesn’t want to do any of that shit, either.”

Gob shook his head. “No…no. You’re making that up—she loves playing, she always has. And she would’ve told me otherwise.”

“Would she? Or would she think you weren’t man enough to handle it?”

He didn’t want to believe it. He _couldn’t_ believe it. But his dad had this way of gnawing his way into him, making him think the worst things about himself, not to mention everyone around him. Gob's shoulders slumped slightly and he felt like his mind was being torn apart as he tried to fight off the words his dad was saying so confidently. 

Lindsay looked over at her oldest brother and then back at her dad. “Daddy, that’s _enough_.”

George, of course, ignored her. “But the real kicker was hearing all about this Tony Wonder guy.”

Gob’s stomach dropped even lower. His dad knowing how heartbroken he was, knowing how he felt so terrible? There was nothing good that could come from that. “…I told you not every guy in music is gay,” Gob said, trying to make his voice sound firm and uncaring.

But even _he_ could tell it didn’t come across that way.

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure he just didn’t want _you_?”

“Of course I am. He would’ve told me.”

“Michael didn’t sound so certain.”

Gob looked over at his brother, his fists clenching.

“What? No—I thought _maybe_ he was—”

“You can’t even hold onto a guy,” George said with a snort. “What was it that you said? That it’s been a decade since you and that Sebastian guy—”

“ _Seth_ ,” Gob said through his teeth.

“Right. Seth. You broke up with him ten years ago and haven’t had any relationship as good since then? And now even this Tony guy doesn’t want you?” Gob looked away from his father, his eyes prickling with tears he was desperately trying to will away. “God, you can’t even be gay right. But what should I expect from the original G-O-B?”

Gob felt his throat tighten at those words. Those were the sort of things he told himself all the time, the sort of thing he believed down deep in his heart, the sort of thing that made him desperate for companionship but hesitant to commit. His dad had struck a nerve, and Gob stared at a spot on the floor as he collected himself. He wasn’t going to let his dad see him cry. He wasn’t going to let his dad know that he agreed with him. He wasn’t going to let his dad know that he was right.

With a clear of his throat, Gob lifted his head and painted a smirk on his face. “Seeing as I have almost no gag reflex left and I love taking it up the ass, I’d say I’m pretty damn good at being gay.” With that, he flipped off his dad with both hands and walked backwards a few steps before turning around and leaving the penthouse. As soon as the door was closed, Gob moved at top speed, not stopping again until he reached his car, and even then he waited until he reached the first traffic light before he finally wiped his eyes.

* * *

At first, Gob drove back to his place. He pulled into the driveway and thought about what alcohol he had or if he had any edibles left. There had to be something, _anything_ , that could take off the edge he was feeling. But, after sitting there for a few minutes, he pulled right back out and headed towards the model home. He had to figure out if everything his dad said was true or not first.

Logically, Gob knew he should wait to see Maeby once he had cooled off. He knew going to see her then and there wouldn’t lead to anything good, even if his dad _had_ been lying. But he also knew that, if he waited, he may never do it, or he’d keep letting the idea fester until he acted even worse in response.

So, Gob headed over to the model home which was, of course, mostly empty. Half the occupants were still at the penthouse or maybe on the way home, after all. He walked straight into the living room and found both his nephew and niece in there.

“Uncle Gob?” George Michael asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be having a family meeting?”

“I considered it over,” Gob said shortly before looking at his niece. “And, you know, your Pop-Pop had the craziest things to say from when he was hiding in the attic. He said he heard and saw a lot of things. And there were some interesting things in particular about you two.”

The two of them looked panicked, which only confirmed what his dad had said in Gob’s eyes. Still, he did his best to be calm and, point-blank, asked, “Maeby? Do you even _want_ to play piano?”

Maeby looked relieved for a split-second before frowning in concern. “What? I—yeah, I do.”

“Really,” Gob said doubtfully. “Because your Pop-Pop says that you and George Michael have talked about how you’re only doing it because you feel sorry for me.”

The two cousins exchanged looks for a moment while Gob waited for a reply. Maeby insisted, “Uncle Gob, I really, _really_ love playing. I _do_.” Gob still looked suspicious, but he relaxed slightly in his stance.

…Until Maeby dropped the bombshell, “I just don’t want to _be_ a pianist.”

Gob kept his face neutral, which took about all of his will power to do. “Uh huh. And why didn’t you tell me?”

Maeby looked down for a moment, actually looking _guilty_. Gob had never seen her look like that ever, not once in her life. “…You were going through a lot, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you? And I love having lessons—”

“Maeby, I don’t need pity from you,” Gob said firmly. “I…you could’ve just _told_ me. I…” Maeby started to say something, but Gob couldn’t hear it. All he could hear was everything his dad had said in the penthouse. If he was telling the truth about what Maeby had said, then that had to mean he was telling the truth about everything else. He felt his fists clench and his throat tighten again. He was truly the laughing stock of the family, wasn’t he? He was so distracted that he didn’t even hear the front door open.

“You know what?” Gob said. “It’s fine. _Totally_ fine. Different strokes for different folks, right? I can find other students to take your slot. I have a lot of people interested in lessons now.”

“But I _like_ having lessons, I really do—”

“Maeby, you don’t have to lie to me, okay?” Gob said. “Everyone else in this family can lie to me, but I don’t want _you_ to lie to me. Not you of all people.” He turned to his nephew. “So, what do you have hidden from me, huh?”

“Gob, he’s not hiding anything from you,” Michael said firmly. “He’s an honest, good kid.” Despite what Michael said, George Michael had a guilty, anxious look on his face as his eyes darted over to his cousin.

However, Gob chose to ignore that. “People have a way of surprising you, Michael. I never thought one of my best friends would call me pathetic—”

“I _didn’t_!” Anna exclaimed.

“And I didn’t think you’d purposefully break the law or that my niece would lie to me about enjoying something for  _years_."

“I wasn’t!” Maeby insisted.

“Gob,” Michael said firmly. “I think you need to cool down.”

“Why? Do you think I’m being _dramatic_?”

“Yeah, I do,” Michael said.

Gob let out a hollow laugh and went to the piano bench. “Gob, are you seriously going to play right—” Michael cut himself off when he saw Gob open up the piano bench and pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What? You’re not the only one who knows how to hide things here,” Gob said. He took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth while he stored the rest of the pack in his pocket. As he started walking out towards the back door, he lit up, sitting down on one of the porch steps as he let the door closed behind him.

* * *

Gob had no idea how long he sat out there in silence. He just knew he made his way through three cigarettes and was actually feeling a bit calmer by the time he heard the door open again. For whatever reason, he didn’t even have to turn around to know that it was Michael.

His brother sat next to him and Gob continued to look out in front of him. After everything he felt that day, he couldn’t help but be reminded of when he first came out to Michael.

Well, when he was _outed_ to Michael. He definitely hadn’t had a choice in that matter. He wondered, briefly, what would’ve happened if Michael hadn’t walked in on him making out with Dave. Would Gob have ever told him? Would they be as close as they were? Would he be as hurt over him hiding their dad?

He had no idea.

“I’m sorry I called you dramatic,” Michael said.

Gob shrugged. That was the least of his concerns.

“And I’m sorry I let dad ambush you like that.” Again, Gob shrugged. He may have been calmer, but he really didn’t feel like talking. Especially not with his brother.

Michael seemed to realize that, since he stood up a few moments later. “I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for what you said about me in the magazine,” Michael said. “I mean, I know you call me homophobic and everything as a joke, but it’s nice to know you don’t really think that…and we haven’t been talking as much lately. I’m just…I’m glad to know we’re okay.”

Gob stayed silent for a long time, still looking out in the distance. Finally, just as Michael was about to leave, Gob said, “They aren’t jokes.”

Michael turned back to him. “…What?”

“Me calling you homophobic? They’re not jokes. Not all of them,” Gob said, still facing away from Michael.

“…Oh.” A small sound left Michael, like he had been slapped in the face. He moved to sit next to his brother again. While he knew the situation wasn’t really about him, knowing that he really _did_ seem homophobic and that it hadn’t been a joke made him feel really shitty. Michael really thought he was better than that.

“…It’s not—I mean, all straight people are,” Gob finally said. “And I do use it a lot since I know it’ll make you shut up, and it’s nice having that power.” He lightly nudged Michael and smiled, making Michael smile a little, too.

After a moment, Gob continued, “But…I don’t know. Sometimes it _does_ feel like you’re…you know, uncomfortable with me kissing guys and stuff. And having you always talk about me being ‘safe’ and all, I know that’s how you show you care, but…but it’s not like you worried about my health when you thought I was straight. And I know you’re just worried about me getting sick and everything, but you really…you really can’t understand what this stuff is like, Mikey. I don’t…” Gob sighed, not wanting to talk about the subject anymore.

Michael slowly nodded. “I…okay. I…I’ll work on that.”

Gob nodded as well. “It’s not like you’re outright homophobic like dad or anything.”

For a moment, both men thought the subject was over. But, surprising even himself, Gob spoke again, because, apparently, his peace really  _was_ gone.

“And then you hid him in your attic.”

Michael turned to his brother, honestly confused just because he thought they had already covered this. Did he really have more to say? “What?”

“You hid him in your _fucking_ _attic_ ,” Gob repeated, turning to face him. “I knew after your bachelor party, I knew you were going to choose to support him—I _wanted_ you to. You had a family to support, you needed to be on his good side for Tracey, for your kid. You needed to suck up to him. I was fine with it. You still were there for me, even if you had to be with him. But…but now? You didn’t need to hide him from the police. You didn’t need him around—your company was doing better _without_ him around. He’s a fucking _terrible_ businessman, and you know that, treason or not, he did illegal shit. Yet you still took his side. You still…you still saw him as someone good, someone worthy of being saved? You felt bad because mom was cheating on him after _he_ cheated on mom repeatedly? You felt like he was worth saving after everything he did to you? After…after everything he did to _me_?”

Michael blinked a few times, not sure what to say. But that was fine, because Gob, oh boy, Gob was _not_ done talking. Not one bit.

“You saw what he did to me. You saw it all first hand. You saw how he made me hate everything about myself. How he hated the _one thing_ I was good for—and you _know_ that was the only thing I was good for, it’s the only thing I’ve _ever_ been good for. And if he didn’t like that, what the fuck was the point, right? Why did I deserve to exist if playing piano was such a bad thing?” Gob let out a shallow, fake laugh. “Not that you would care, since I _know_ you still don’t think it’s a worthwhile thing, either.”

“Gob, that’s not true—”

“It _is_ ,” Gob said sharply. “I was _so_ excited for that cover until you pointed out how no one was gonna read it anyways.” Gob suddenly stood up and walked through the door back into the model home.

Seconds later, Michael followed him in. “Gob, I didn’t mean it like that—”

Gob groaned loudly and turned back to his brother. “That’s not even the fucking point. The point is, _god_ , Michael—I know I have people on my side. Like, of course I have Seth and Anna and Buster, maybe? But I barely fucking _know_ Buster and he apparently barely knows _me_ , since he  _just learned_ that I'm gay. And I always knew…I knew Lindsay would be conflicted, because she’s a daddy’s girl, and, yeah, of course mom would choose dad over me, but you…” Gob felt tears start to prick at his eyes. “You told me I was your _Best Man_. And you were supposed to be mine. Always. You said you were _always_ going to be my best man. _You_ were supposed to be there for me. And you chose dad instead. You chose to protect him. You chose to make this place I thought was safe—you let him hear things I _never_ wanted him to hear. I can barely stand being in here anymore now. Now that I know all the things he heard, things I would never want him to hear _ever._ And you made the penthouse a place where I couldn’t hide just for _once_ —”

Gob’s breath caught in his throat. Tears were starting to come faster, and he blinked as fast he could, finally just closing his eyes so he could make them just fucking _stop_. His thoughts were moving a million miles a minute, and he was having trouble trying to keep them organized and to get them out in the right order. Finally, he just continued with his earlier point, “I’m no one’s first choice, okay? Even out of the people on my side—Buster would choose mom, Seth chose fucking _Christopher_ , you even took _Anna_ from me, and Tony…” Gob couldn’t stop an actual sob leaving his body at the thought of that. “I’m never going to be his first choice. Ever.” Gob wiped his eyes and opened them again. “And now even _dad_ has to know that because of you; dad has to know that the man I'm in love with will _never_ feel the same way about me. But I…I thought I’d always have _you_. Seth’s my best friend, but you…you were supposed to be my _Best Man_. And I was yours. I was _always_ yours. I always put you first, right down to letting you choose dad's side after your bachelor party. But you were never mine, were you?”

Gob finally stopped talking and looked at his brother. Michael looked overwhelmed, like he couldn’t process everything Gob had told him. And Gob…Gob just didn’t want to wait for Michael to finally figure out everything. He made a sound of frustration and wiped at his eyes again. He walked into the living room and grabbed some of his sheet music he had kept in the piano bench, his older rock songs, like that old copy of “Thunder Road”, the first piece of sheet music he had bought for himself with his own money. He had kept all of that there, and he wanted it back in his own place, out of the model home. He didn’t want to have to come back for it.

But Michael followed him, still overwhelmed and confused, but not ready to let his brother leave. “Gob, I—Gob, I thought—you said we were okay!”

Gob stopped in his tracks and faced Michael, finally aware that most of the family was still there and that they were all watching as he let out a humorless laugh. “If you can lie to me, I can lie to you.” He shook his head. “God, Michael, you _knew_ part of why I was okay with staying here was because I thought dad was out of the picture, and you _knew_ he was still here, that there was a chance I’d run into him, and you _still_ chose to let me believe that. I could’ve been _gone_ by now. I could’ve moved back to New York and been _free_ from all this fucking…” Gob trailed off with a frustrated groan, too frustrated to even speak for the moment.

“…So, we’re not okay,” Michael said quietly. _Lamely_.

Gob shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh at how lame of a question it was. “No, Michael. We’re not okay.”

Michael looked up at him, still several feet away from him, as if he was afraid to come in any closer. “… _Will_ we be okay?” he asked quietly, almost too quiet for Gob to hear.

Gob felt a tug at his heart. Seeing his brother looking so torn up still brought up the urge to comfort him in some way. He didn’t like seeing his family in crisis, especially Michael, and his younger brother just looked so _young_ in that moment, younger than he had in years.

And the truth was, Gob knew the answer was _yes_ , or, at worst, _probably_. Because he _did_ understand that it wasn’t about him. He knew Michael had his own father issues he was dealing with and he knew that he was always just trying to keep the family together. Family was Michael’s thing. Gob was going to forgive him some day, eventually. Gob knew that.

But Gob was upset. He was mad, he was furious—he was _hurt_. Hearing his dad say all those awful things was one thing, but the fact that _Michael_ had caused that? Gob had never been more hurt in his life. And, for once, he didn’t want to just take it. For once, he didn’t want to be the bigger man. For once, he wanted his brother to know what it was like to not be his Best Man’s first choice.

Gob looked him in the eye, his own gaze cold and angry. “…I don’t know,” Gob said, his voice steely. “I really don’t know anymore.”

A grim sense of satisfaction ran through him as he saw his brother the robot with watery eyes. He chuckled darkly and picked up the stack of sheet music he had made. With one last look at his brother, he said, “Don’t be so _dramatic_ , Michael. You wouldn’t want anyone to think you were a _fag_ , would you?”

With that, Gob left the model home in silence, not looking back even once as he drove back to his place.

* * *

Gob ignored every phone call he got from his family, from the several ones Maeby made to Lindsay’s, even Anna’s. Michael didn’t try calling him, at least not with his own phone.

Gob couldn’t decide if he was okay with that or not.

He didn't really do much besides ignore everyone. He really didn't feel like leaving his place. Sometimes he'd just stare out his bay windows and look off at the vague bit of ocean he could see. Sometimes he'd think about calling Tony to see if he was back in town yet. But he knew deep down he was just going to wait for Tony to contact him again. He was afraid he'd look desperate otherwise.

After a couple days of ignoring his family and doing nothing, Gob heard someone unlock the door and come in while he was sitting at the piano, trying to make himself practice. He figured he probably should’ve been on alert, but he knew it just had to be a friend or family member.

And, sure enough, when he turned around, he saw Maeby approaching him with a paper lunch bag in her hand and a purse on her shoulder. His stomach churned with guilt at seeing his niece; he felt really shitty about how he had acted towards her. “I brought you a present…Sorry we didn’t have anything else to put it in.”

She sat down next to him and put the bag in his lap. Gob looked at her and then back towards the bag. After a sigh, he opened it up, only to pull out a stuffed, white cat with a blue cape.

He didn’t know what he expected.

He gave her a confused look and she said, “It’s [Clara Schumann-Cat](https://static.alfred.com/cache/20/0c/200cb51420c77f4a4b224737580430a9.jpg). You know, from those kids’ piano books you use.”

After a moment, Gob let out a short laugh. Of course. He used a series of piano books for the youngest kids in his studio that featured characters such as Mozart Mouse and even his sister Nannerl Mouse as well as Beethoven Bear and a few others. The company of course had the animals in stuffed form for purchase.

“Thanks,” he said with a soft, if confused, laugh. “…Why this one, though?”

“Well, there’s no Liszt Lion or anything,” she teased at first, making Gob roll his eyes even as he laughed. “And…well, I wanted you to have something…something to remind you about me.”

Gob looked at her, confused. “…Are you dying or something?”

Maeby laughed. “What? No! I just…” She sighed quietly. “…I know you wanted me to go into piano. And I wanted you to know that, even if I’m not doing that…I still want to be your Clara.” After a moment, she continued, “I’ve read up on her. She…she was really badass, wasn’t she?”

“What all have you read?” Gob asked curiously.

“You know, how she was a virtuoso by the time she was twelve. How she premiered pretty much every piece Robert wrote. How she went against her father’s wishes and married Robert anyways and had all those pregnancies. And she ended up living into her, like, seventies while Robert died in an asylum when she was in her, like, thirties, so she ended up supporting her family through performing while Brahms would watch the kids.” She laughed a little. “She was pretty badass for her time. And definitely a better player than Robert was.”

“Definitely,” Gob agreed. He looked down at the little stuffed cat and gave it a few pets with a smile. Then he sat it up on the edge of the piano, right next to where he kept the stuffed dove Lindsay had given him so many years ago. It was kind of nice seeing the similar gifts between Lindsay and her daughter.

“I love it. Really,” Gob said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Gob pet the stuffed cat's head again, his eyes focused on it as he finally said, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. And getting all… _me_ about it. I _was_ being a bit dramatic.”

“It’s fine,” Maeby said quietly. “I understand why you were upset. I know Pop-Pop told you everything he heard and…I should’ve been the one to tell you. But I’m not lying when I say I like playing piano and that I would love to keep taking lessons.” Gob looked at her doubtfully, but she looked right back at him, as sincere as ever. “I really like playing. I’m not super into theory or history, but I like playing. And I like hanging out with you.”

“Well…I guess we can keep doing that. Lessons and playing and hanging out and everything.”

Maeby smiled. “I’d really like that.”

“…I really _do_ feel bad about yelling at you. I just…I can’t be around your Pop-Pop. He makes me feel…he makes me think the worst things about myself. It’s always been like this,” he said. “It’s why I lived in New York. It’s why I don’t think George Michael ever liked me until after he was in prison. I just become this completely different person when he’s around.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“…Piano’s all I’ve ever really been able to do,” Gob said quietly. “And it’s all I’ve ever _wanted_ to do. So, I guess I just wanted someone to pass that on to. And you seemed to like it, and…you saying you didn’t want to do it, it just felt like… _bad_.” Gob snorted at himself, but that was the truth. Having the person he thought got him the most in the family turn down what he considered his one skill? That hurt a lot. It was like he wasn’t worth anything to the family, because what else did he provide besides music? What _useful_ things?

Yeah. He still struggled with that feeling a lot.

“You’re worth more than that,” Maeby said honestly. “And if you want to branch out into other things, you should look into the movie announcing game. Your voice is perfect for that.”

Gob smiled proudly at that, though he was a bit surprised. That was the first time anyone ever called his voice perfect in any way. “Thanks. I mean, if you know anyone who’d be interested, definitely let me know,” he teased.

Maeby reached into her wallet and pulled out a business card. She gave it to him and he read it with a raised eyebrow.

“…Why do you have a business card that says you’re a movie producer?”

“Because I am one.”

Gob raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, Maebs, I know you love fucking around with your parents like this, but I _really_ thought you and I were having a serious moment here—”

“No, Uncle Gob, I’m being honest. A few months ago, I visited the studio my dad was trying to get a job at and I just…kinda talked my way into a job there,” Maeby said. Gob looked at her, again trying to figure out if she was lying or not, but she was just as genuine as before. And while Gob knew she ran schemes, she was, well, too lazy to make some sort of card like that just for the hell of it. “And I’m not sure I’d want to be a pianist if I wasn’t a movie producer, but I can tell you that I really, _really_ love this job. And not just because I’m pretty sure I’m making the most money in the family right now.”

“Wow…” Gob looked the card over again, frankly stunned. “…Does your mom know about this?”

“No one does. Not even George Michael—and he knows, like, everything else about me,” she said, shaking her head a little. “The guys at work all think I’m in my forties or something; I just told them I had really good plastic surgery.”

“ _Damn_ good plastic surgery,” Gob mumbled, shaking his head. “I…I feel like this is something your mom should know about.”

Maeby shrugged. “I guess.”

“But I’m also not one to give _anyone_ parental relationship advice, so…” Gob shrugged as well. “Just forgive me if I accidentally let it slip to her. You know, whenever I’m talking to the family again.”

“I will.”

“But, yeah, I guess if you need a movie announcer guy, I can give it a whirl.”

“Awesome. I’ll speak to Anna about it.”

Gob stored the card in his pocket. “So, does this job mean no college?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “If I can keep pulling this off, I’m not sure I’ll go…” Maeby opened her purse and pulled a brochure from it. “I should apply to more than one school if I decide to apply, but I have a top choice.”

She handed Gob the brochure and he felt a smile spread across his face. He looked at her and asked, “Seriously?”

“USC has one of the best film schools in the world.”

Gob wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in a tight hug. She laughed a little and hugged him back.

“…You know, if you want to be more like Clara, they also have a great film scoring major.”

“Uncle Gob…” she said in a warning voice.

“Okay, okay. Just saying.”

* * *

Later that same day, there was a knock on his door, which Gob obviously chose to ignore. He figured if he waited long enough, eventually whoever was trying to see him would give up and he could continue being left alone. Having one big, emotional confrontation was enough for the day, right? But the person kept knocking until he finally heard a voice, Lindsay’s, yell, “Gob, your car’s out front; I know you’re in here!”

_Busted_.

He sighed and got off the couch. At least Lindsay of all people was someone he felt like he could actually stand talking to, at least out of his family members besides Maeby. He walked over to the door and opened it.

Lindsay marched in past him before he could think of blocking her out. With another sigh, he closed the door and turned to face her. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you. Obviously,” she said, looking a bit annoyed. Without another word, she went into the living room and, after a moment, Gob groaned and followed her in, soon collapsing back into a sitting position on his couch.

“Yes?”

“First of all, I’m kind of angry that you think I’d be on daddy’s side for all of this,” Lindsay said, crossing her arms as she stood in front of him.

Gob looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “You literally just called him ‘daddy’, Linds. That doesn’t sound like you’re angry with him.”

Lindsay sighed and dropped her arms. “Okay, old habits die hard.” Gob snorted softly, but didn’t completely dismiss her. She moved to sit down next to him, leaving enough space between the two of them so she could face him easily.

“Listen...it was one thing to see how he treated you back when we were younger,” she said softly. “I...I knew it was bad, and I knew it upset you, but you bounced back every time, and it was always in such small doses it was easy to ignore. And I didn’t realize how much it really hurt you until you came out to me.” She took a deep breath and continued, “And it was one thing to _hear_ about the…the punching. I never had to see it, you know. So, it...it was easier to ignore that.

“But what happened in the penthouse…” Lindsay didn’t seem to know how to describe it as she paused for a long time, her arms wrapped around herself. “...It made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew he treated you badly, but...but that was _awful_.” She shook her head. “I knew he made you feel so bad about yourself, but I never…I never thought he was capable of _that_.”

She looked so distraught that Gob felt a brotherly need to make her feel better. “It’s fine. It’s nothing worse than what I’ve told myself,” he said quietly, offering her a half-smile.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Lindsay replied.

“No. It doesn’t.”

They were both quiet for a while, neither of them sure what to say next.

Finally, Lindsay said, “You’re going to forgive Michael, right?” When Gob didn’t answer, she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Why? Do you think what he did was right?”

“No,” Lindsay said immediately. “I think he was being an idiot risking everything like that and I think he should’ve watched what he said while dad was there. And he should’ve considered what it would do to you if the penthouse was taken away from you.” Gob could feel a _but_ coming and, sure enough, Lindsay finally said, “But I understand why he did it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know; 'family is the most important thing',” Gob said.

“No, that’s not why,” Lindsay said. Gob looked at her questioningly and she chuckled softly and sadly. “Gob...you know how you refused to believe how you were mom’s second favorite growing up because of how she criticized you?” He nodded in response. “Well, if _you_ felt like that, how do you think Michael felt?” She paused for a moment before quietly adding, “How do you think _I_ felt?”

Gob paused. He had never really thought of that before. After growing up feeling criticized by both of his parents on what seemed to be a constant basis, Gob never considered his siblings felt the same way. Yeah, he knew Michael dealt with their dad pushing him to extremes, but…

“But you hang out with mom all the time,” Gob pointed out.

Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Because she buys me things if I’m with her. And it gets me out of the house...it makes me feel normal again, instead of feeling like I’m stuck here. Don’t get me wrong, I love being back in California. But at least in Boston I didn’t feel so… _caged_ …”

Gob frowned, not sure what to say. He couldn’t believe he had never thought of his sister feeling the same things he did about, well, _everything_ —how great it was to be in California but missing the freedom being away from home brought, the confusing duality of their parents’ treatment/favors, not feeling good enough…

“But…but she…was she really _that_ bad to you?”

Lindsay gave Gob a significant look. “Gob, she _made_ me get a nose job when I was a _teenager_.”

“Yeah, well…it’s a lot better now.”

“It is, but that’s still messed up,” Lindsay said. “But the worst part was…” she shook her head. “I could barely have a bite of food in high school without feeling guilty, whether she was there or not.” Gob stayed silent, not sure what to even say to that. “Sometimes I still can’t even make myself eat in front of her…I know it’s dumb, and I shouldn’t care if she says I’m fat, but…well, dad only praised me for my looks, and she constantly pointed out every flaw I had in those. It doesn’t really make for a good combo.”

Looking back, it all made so much sense. He vaguely remembered Lindsay throwing away half-eaten lunches at school and all those comments their mom made about her size, but he must have been so consumed with his own problems to ever think about how bad it was for her.

“…I’m sorry, Linds,” he finally said. “I never—I should’ve said something—”

“It’s fine. We were teenagers; I definitely didn’t realize everything _you_ were going through. And _I_ knew about you crying after having sex with girls and thought that, I don’t know, you were just emotional or something.” With a shake of her head, she said, “And this isn’t some sort of game of who has it worse or anything, that’s not the point. It’s just…you’re not the only one of us who’s had to deal with one parent making you feel worthless while the other somewhat liked you.”

After a breath, she continued, “You know how you didn’t want to deal with coming out to mom for real because then it might ruin your relationship with her?” Gob nodded. “Well, why do you think Michael’s trying to help dad? I honestly can’t decide which of us is third or fourth on mom’s list; it probably changes daily with her. But, while his relationship with dad is nowhere near healthy…it’s the one parent who actually _likes_ him.” 

Gob crossed his arms and leaned back against the back of the couch as he thought over what she said. He truly hadn’t thought about that at all, but she was definitely right about that. Maybe mom hadn’t been as bad to Michael as dad had been to him, but he definitely knew the whole wanting to please at least _one_ parent thing.

“…Our family is so fucked up,” Gob muttered.

“ _So_ fucked up,” Lindsay agreed with a slight laugh.

Gob looked back over at her, turning his body to face hers. “Are you really going to stop talking to dad?”

“I think so,” Lindsay said softly. “I…I don’t really see myself being a daddy’s girl after seeing all of that.” She sighed. “I don’t know with Michael, though. I think getting rid of dad’s charges would help the company, you know? That’s why he was helping before, but I don’t know.”

They were silent for a little while, each of them thinking a lot. Gob ran a finger over his thumb nail with a frown. He had been biting his nails recently from all his anxiety, and the nail was all jagged. Anna still had his manicure kit…

“…How’s he doing?” Gob finally asked quietly.

“Michael?” Lindsay asked. Gob nodded. “He’s pretty much a wreck. You know, maybe not like how you and I are when we’re wrecks, but…yeah, he’s a mess.”

“Good.”

Lindsay sighed. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Lindsay gave him a look and Gob sighed. “Fine. I don’t. Not _completely_. I need more time before I can talk to him again, though.”

“I understand.”

Again, the two of them were silent for a little while. That time to break the silence, Gob asked, “Wanna get high? I have some brownies I’ve been meaning to eat.”

“I haven’t been high since before I was married,” Lindsay said with a slight scoff. Seconds later she was grinning and saying, “Let’s do it.”

As they ate the brownies and waited for the highs to settle in, Gob asked, “…How do you deal with seeing mom so much, then?”

Lindsay thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess I do my best to tell myself it doesn’t matter what she says or what she thinks about me. I do my best to ignore her. And…” She hesitated, clearly nervous about saying what was on her mind. “You promise not to judge me?”

Gob nodded. “Of course not.”

Lindsay looked doubtful, but she nodded back. After a deep breath, she told him, “When I lived in Boston, I saw a therapist.”

Okay, Lindsay was right to be doubtful, because Gob felt a huge wave of judgment at that reveal. Though he remained silent, Lindsay saw his face and she scoffed. “See? I knew you’d judge me!”

“What? No, I—” he cut himself off at her look and sighed. “Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I know mom and dad always said stuff like that was a weakness and just meant for crazy people, but it really isn’t,” Lindsay said genuinely. “And, even if it _was_ just for crazy people, I think our family has made _all_ of us insane enough to count for that.”

Gob laughed. “Okay, that’s true.” He _had_ agreed with Tony before about how he could use one.

They were silent again for a little while. Once Gob finished his brownie, he asked, “And that really helped?”

“Yeah. A whole lot,” Lindsay said.

“Was it Tobias?”

“No. There are laws or something against that when it comes to family and wives. Or ethics or something, I don’t know,” Lindsay explained, waving her hand dismissively. “I saw one of his colleagues.”

“What did you do when you met with him?”

“Lots of things, but he mainly just let me talk. It was nice having someone who didn’t have a bias towards mom or anyone else I talked about. He was there to listen to me and help me understand how I felt and…and it really _did_ help. A lot.”

Gob made a mental to note to look into that.

Of course, seeing as he was about to get stoned off his ass, he had no idea if he’d remember it, but it was worth a shot.

* * *

Gob took a few more days to do it, but, finally, he knocked on the front door.

He smiled slightly when he saw his friend's pale blonde hair as she answered. “Gob?” Anna asked.

“I’m kinda amazed you’re actually at your apartment,” Gob said as she let him inside.

“I always stay over at my apartment on Tuesdays and Wednesdayss,” Anna said. “I have to set _some_ boundaries.”

“Of course,” Gob said with a short laugh.

“I actually _do_ have a lot of boundaries with your brother, still,” Anna said sharply, crossing her arms. She didn’t like the idea of Gob taking her anything less than seriously. “For one thing, he still hasn’t stayed the night here. That’s why I’m normally over there.”

“Okay,” Gob said, not laughing that time, "I wasn't doubting you."

The two of them looked at each other for a long time, each apparently waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Anna bluntly asked, “So. Why are you here?”

“You still have my manicure kit,” Gob said. Anna rolled her eyes and went to her bathroom to grab it. Once she handed it back to him, he also said, “And, you know, seeing as you’re the only woman in my life who hasn’t come to see me since the whole penthouse thing, I figured I should stop by and see if you wanted to talk about it.”

“I do have a few things to say, yes.”

“Should I sit?” Gob asked.

“Sure,” Anna said. Gob sat down at her table, but she remained standing. She crossed her arms and looked at him angrily. “First things first, don’t you _ever_ ignore my calls again. Not only did I have to postpone _several_ interviews, but you _really_ worried me.”

Gob nodded, his face not changing. “I’m sorry.”

Anna’s face softened and she said, “I wanted to talk to you. I thought about going over. But I knew you needed space, and…” She trailed off as she tried to think of what to say.

“And…?”

Anna sat down and looked over at Gob. “…You’re really okay with me dating him?” Anna asked. Gob looked over at her, honestly surprised to see her nervously holding her hands, apparently genuinely anxious about Gob’s blessing.

“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”

“Yes, it would,” Anna replied. “I don’t like the idea of my favorite client and one of my best friends being upset. And if you weren’t okay with it…I mean, I _did_ know you first and you’re _really_ important to me, so…”

Gob couldn’t help but smile a little. “Well…I _am_ fine with it.” Anna smiled back. “Though I hope you’re ready for…everything. His… _issues_. Our _mother_. The lawyers…”

Anna laughed quietly. “Yeah, I am. I know it’s… _messy_. It’s definitely not what I ever planned to sign up for, but…” She shrugged. “I can’t help it. There’s something about him." She laughed and said, "It’s all your fault, by the way.”

“How is it _my_ fault?”

“I asked you to be my wingman expecting to have some fling or something casual set up for when I made the moved over here. I didn’t expect to find someone I could actually see myself settling down with.” She crossed her arms, “I’m honestly a little mad at you about that.”

The two of them looked at each other and soon laughed. It was ridiculous how it had all turned out.

“Can you wait to get married until after I’m done being mad at him?”

“God, I’m not even ready to think about marriage,” Anna said. “I know enough from what you’ve told me and what he’s told me that this…this isn’t something we can rush.” She laughed slightly. “Or, I don’t know, maybe it would be easier for him if we just jumped head first into things so we don’t over-think it. But…” Gob looked back over at her as she sighed softly. “ _I’m_ not ready to be married again. And I want to make sure he’s _actually_ ready before we try anything _that_ serious. There are still a few things we need to do before I’m ready to think about letting him propose.”

“You’re gonna tell him when to propose?”

“I’m going to tell him when I’m ready and then he can do whatever he wants,” Anna said with a serious nod. “And we still have some major steps to make before that time.”

“Like what?”

“Those three little words are a big one,” Anna said dryly. “I’d also like to live together, and preferably not in a model home. Him meeting _my_ family is important to me. And, of course, there’s…the big one.”

“I’m not surprised you have a checklist,” Gob said with a slight smile. “What’s the big one?”

Shyly, she admitted, “…Him seeing my feet.” Gob stared at her and she said, “What? You know I danced, and I’ve been known to slip back into my pointe shoes in a studio from time-to-time. My feet weren’t _completely_ ruined like some of the professionals, but you combine that with me wearing heels to help add some height so I can be taken more seriously…I don’t show them to just _anybody_.”

Gob tilted his head. “But…you guys have had sex.”

“Yeah?”

“And your shoes haven’t come off for that?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo; I know how to hide them under sheets and blankets just fine,” Anna said simply. “And I’ve never been with a guy who’s complained when I’ve left my high-heeled boots on.” Gob raised his eyebrows and she raised hers back. "Think about it; I've known you for  _how_ many years now and have you  _ever_ seen my bare feet?"

Gob looked down at her said feet and realized she was actually wearing slippers. “…I guess there’s a reason why you were never one of those girls who found out I was gay and then asked if I wanted to get pedicures.” The two of them laughed again, soon smiling softly at each other.

After a few moments, Anna asked, “You know that I never called you pathetic, right?”

“Yeah,” Gob said.

“And you know your brother made, like, one passing observation that he thought Tony wasn’t straight?”

Gob sighed. “Yeah. I figured.”

“And you know that I love you and if you _really_ hated me dating him, I’d break up with him?”

“Yeah.”

Slowly, Anna took Gob’s hand. “…Are you ready to see Michael now?”

It took a few moments, but Gob finally closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

* * *

 

Gob let Anna drive him to the model home. He felt a bit too nervous himself to do it. At one point he started biting his nails until he remembered, oh yeah, manicure kit. While he didn’t think clipping his nails while in a moving car was smart, he decided he could at least file some of the jagged edges.

By the time they reached the model home, Gob’s nails were completely smooth and he _did_ weirdly feel calmer. Well, a _bit_ calmer. He was still nervous and angry and upset over everything. He was still mad that Michael had really done that. But he was tired of fighting and, god, he just needed this to end.

After a few moments, he got out of the car and Anna walked with him through the front door. "I texted him to let him know we were coming," Anna warned Gob. He nodded in response, since it was honestly a good idea.

Eventually, Anna led him back to the back patio, where Michael was. He stood up when he saw Gob and nodded at him. Anna went back inside and closed the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone outside.

The two of them looked at each other for a while, Gob studying his brother in the process. While Michael definitely wasn't a complete nervous wreck, just like Lindsay had said, Gob could tell he was upset. Michael had those tiny frown lines on his face and definitely had more tension in his shoulders than usual.

"…I'm still angry with you," Gob said suddenly. 

Michael nodded. "I know."

"I'm just tired of fighting."

"Me, too."

They kept looking at each other for a while before Gob finally broke their eye contact by sitting down in one of the patio chairs. A few seconds later, he heard Michael sit down in the one next to him and they both sighed. 

Gob looked down at his lap and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about it a lot. About…everything." Michael nodded and made a small noise of encouragement. "…After the bachelor party and everything, like I said before, I wanted you to help him out and stay on his good side. Because I knew you had a family of your own to support. I just…It still hurt. Even if I wanted you to do it, it wasn't easy to see, you know?"

He cleared his throat and continued, "And then every time I would visit, you'd make me see him at some point. Try to get us to get along. I know that’s just because you want a family and you want us to get along and be happy, but you never understood that it’s not what I wanted. You didn’t get that it was best for me to _not_ try to talk to him or be around him. You don't get how seeing him makes me act like…like _this_. And I don't like it. And…and you trying to make me the bigger man and just suck it up, it…it sucks and I know I have to do that sometimes, but it just…

“It gave me this hope that someday it would actually be okay.” Gob felt tears pricking at his eyes. It really wasn’t until right then that he realized what all of that boiled down to, it took talking about it out loud to finally reach the conclusion he had avoided thinking about for so many years. “You trying so hard and forcing me made me think maybe there was some good to him. You defending him, you naming your _kid_ after him—I just kept thinking that, well, if _Michael_ sees some good in him, maybe he _will_ get over it. Maybe he’ll grow up and accept me. It was fine working for him, but still viewing him as this great guy despite all the shit he did to me growing up…” Gob swallowed roughly and rolled his eyes up to try to stop himself from actually crying. “It made me believe something that I know isn’t true.”

Michael looked down at his lap as well, unable to look at his clearly upset brother. Not when he was part of why he was so upset. "I'm sorry," Michael said at first. "I never meant to…I never thought of it like that." He shook his head. "I _don't_ think he's a good guy, though. Honestly, like you said in your interview, I really  _don't_ know if dad did those crimes or not, but I  _do_ know that he's not a good person.  _Or_ a good dad. And…I don't know what to say besides I'm sorry. Maybe I just hoped that there _was_ some good in him. Or that he _would_ get over it. I don't know."

"I don't know, either," Gob said softly.

"…I do know that me trying to help dad…it wasn't me choosing him over you," Michael said softly. 

Gob nodded. "Lindsay and I talked about it." Michael looked at him curiously and Gob sighed. "I'd never really…I never thought about how you just wanted to be on dad's good side, since you weren't on mom's. Like how I was kinda the opposite." Gob snorted softly. "I mean, I doubt I'm on her good side now, but you know what I mean. Before the interview and everything."

Michael nodded. "Yeah…mom and dad made it hard on us."

"Yep."

After a few moments of silence, Michael said, "I'm kinda jealous of you, honestly." Gob looked at Michael like he was crazy. "I always talked about leaving the family, but I never could. I could never say goodbye to mom, to dad…I'm really just stuck with them. But you chose to be honest and set yourself free…" Michael gave Gob a small, half-smile. "Pretty brave of you."

"It's not that hard," Gob said quietly. He smirked a little and said, "Just tell them you like to get fucked in the ass and you'll be just as free as me." 

The two of them locked eyes and, before they knew it, they were laughing, both of them making the other laugh louder at the pure ridiculousness of what had happened. It seemed like, after all the drama and tears and yelling, it was just too much for them to take seriously anymore.

"Why didn't I think of that before?" Michael asked, still laughing as he spoke.

"You just don't think, Mikey," Gob said, still laughing as well.

"I guess I don't."

The two of them smiled a little at each other. Honestly, Gob felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He was still a little upset, and he definitely planned on milking Michael's guilt for a little bit—hey, it was his right as a brother to do that—but he definitely felt better than before he had gotten to the model home.

"You know, I read your whole interview," Michael said. "I really didn't mean it as an insult with the who would read it thing—I just meant that our investors aren't the most cultured people out there."

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, even _I_ couldn't follow some of the stuff you guys talked about, and I've definitely heard more ramblings about classical music than they have," Michael said. "But it was a great interview. Really."

"Thanks." Gob looked over at Michael and asked, "But have you listened to the CD?"

"Of course I've listened to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Michael said. "You know, when you were at Juilliard and then in San Francisco and everything, I would listen to tapes of pianists. I got so used to you playing that it was hard to concentrate  _without_ that stuff." Gob nodded; he knew that. "I wish I had this CD back in law school or something. I don't know how, but there's something about it that's just…you. Of all of my piano CDs…it's my favorite, favorite record."

Gob ducked his head a little, almost feeling  _embarrassed_ at all the praise. "…God, you're so corny," Gob said, trying to fight it off. 

"Yeah…" They smiled at each other again and stood up. Finally, Gob hugged his brother, and while Michael didn't appreciate how tight Gob hugged since it was  _painful_ , he was just glad to know things really  _were_ okay with them.

* * *

 

Gob was practicing when he heard the door to his house open. He kept playing, not particularly thrilled at the idea of having yet another come to Jesus moment with anyone in his family. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have yet another heart-to-heart with anyone.

But when he finished the piece he was playing, a voice said, “Schubert, right?”

Gob turned around in surprise, amazed to see his mom standing there. He had assumed his mom would never want to speak to him again.

“…Right. Schubert,” Gob said. “Liszt’s transcription of it.”

Lucille nodded, the smallest bit of a smile on her lips. “Of course.”

They looked at each other in a long silence until Gob asked, “Do you want a drink?”

He came back to the living room a few minutes later with two martinis in his hands as he sat down on the couch. His mom took one without a word, but she hummed in approval after she had a sip.

“You do always make the best martini out of everyone in the family.”

Again, they fell silent. So silent that Gob could hear the ticking of his clock and the opposite side of his wall. Yet again, Gob was the one to break the silence.

“Why are you here, mom?” he asked, a sigh evident in his voice.

She looked him in the eye, unflinchingly. “I figured we should talk.”

“…We don’t talk.”

She shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Gob frowned, but his mom stayed calm and indifferent. He sighed loudly, petulantly, and crossed his arms. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

And, for a third time, they fell silent. Evidently, even if Lucille thought they needed to talk, she had no idea how to start the conversation. Gob kinda wanted to wait for her to do it, but Gob was never good at waiting in silence.

“How did you know?” Gob asked softly. “I  _know_  that you’ve known for a while. Did dad say something? Michael?”

Lucille, much to Gob’s surprise, snorted. “You think I needed  _them_  to tell me? I knew before either of them.”

“When? How?”

There was a small pause. “There were a lot of little… _signs_. Not the ones your father noticed. Details that he never paid attention to. Your father’s always been bad about details.”

Gob thought about all the little details of what was wrong with the model home and nodded. Yeah, that tracked.

“Some of your movie choices,” Lucille said. “Those gave you away. Your Olympics obsession. Little things you’d say…I drove you to those physical therapy sessions after you broke your wrist, you know.”

“Dad was already making jokes about it by then,” Gob said.

Lucille rolled her eyes. “Your father had suspicions for years that you were… _artistic_ ,” Gob wasn’t even surprised his mom still couldn’t even say the actual word, “but he didn’t know. I don’t even think he believed what he was saying; he wanted to get a rise out of you more than anything.”

Okay, that was true.

“Anyways, a lot of things added up. Then…do you remember what you said after that first physical therapy session?” Gob shook his head. “You said your physical therapist looked like he could be on a TV show. You asked me if I thought he looked like a Carrington.”

If Gob wasn’t so shocked at how honest his mother was being, he would’ve laughed at that. Of  _course_  that was his reaction.

“That mostly solidified it for me. But you dated girls in high school, so I figured maybe it was a phase.” Lucille had a sip of her drink, and Gob waited silently, not even touching his own. He was too interested in hearing his mom actually  _speak_  to him for once, bringing up actual, important things and thoughts she had never expressed.  _Meaningful_  things.

“Your father never told me what happened at Michael’s bachelor party, but I had a suspicion,” Lucille said thoughtfully. “After that… _Seth_  showed up at your recital, I knew that he was more than just a friend. You’re never that excitable about friends.

“Your father seemed to realize it, too. And when he came home with a bruise on his face and an obviously fake story about a stripper punching him, all while he wouldn’t even look at you at the rehearsal dinner?” Lucille shrugged. “It doesn’t take a genius to put that together. Then, at the wedding, during the mother-groom dance, Michael told me you were moving to San Francisco…” Lucille actually sighed at that. “Your brother was very torn up about that. But, even if I didn’t already know, that would’ve made it clear to anyone that you were…are… _you_.”

“You can say the word, mom,” Gob said quietly.

His mom chose to ignore that, because of course she would. “I just wish your taste in  _friends_  was better.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. “You’ve never met, like, any of them.”

“I’ve met enough of them,” she replied simply. “You can’t tell me that Seth was just your roommate for four years.” She looked over at the bookshelf, “Anyone would be able to tell he wasn’t just a roommate. Not when you have pictures of him like that—or  _that_  for that matter.” Lucille nodded towards the photo of George Michael on Gob’s lap, the one where Gob was trying to help him play piano.

“He’s not in that photo,” Gob said with a frown. Well, okay, his hands were on Gob’s shoulders, but that was it.

“I saw the original prints from that trip,” Lucille said. “He was in the rest of them.” She was quiet for a moment, obviously struggling to say something. When she finally managed to speak, she said, “You two looked very… _happy_. It was nice to see.”

Gob was stunned in silence for a while. Of all things he expected to hear from his mother, it was never  _that_.

“…But you said you didn’t…you didn’t like him?”

Lucille snorted. “That boy wouldn’t last one minute in this family. I know Lindsay’s husband has managed to claw his way into the family, but the only person I met who could actually handle this family was Tracey.”

Gob thought about it. While Tracey was the sweetest person he ever met, she also never cowered in front of his dad or let his mom’s insults get to her or even get too creeped out by Buster. She even handled Gob’s breakdown easily and seemed to understand how to get Michael to calm down.

Wow. Tracey was a lot stronger than he ever really gave her credit for.

“I guess that Anna girl is acceptable, too,” Lucille said, her lips ever slightly pursed, though there was a hint of a smile in her eyes. Gob had a feeling that she enjoyed having someone fighting back against her.

“Besides…” Lucille paused, again seeming to have trouble saying whatever she wanted to say out loud. In the most awkward manner Gob had ever seen his mother talk, she said, “That Christmas before you moved to Las Vegas…seeing you like that made me less than a fan of his.”

Oh.

What the  _fuck_.

Gob knew his mom cared about him, obviously. But hearing her admit she didn’t like seeing him heartbroken? That was…wow. Unexpected.

“…We’re actually friends now. Like, best friends,” Gob said softly. “I’m his daughter’s godfather and I visit him once a year.”

“And don’t get me  _started_  on Gary,” Lucille said, ignoring what Gob had said. “He’s way below your station. If you  _have_  to be… _that_ , you should at least  _befriend_  someone who doesn’t work for us.”

“Yeah, well…that already crashed and burned,” Gob muttered. Even if he wasn’t in love with him, it wasn’t like the break-up was fun. Not after spending almost a year flirting with and then dating him.

“I figured.”

They fell silent again. Gob finally picked his drink off the coffee table and had a few sips, not sure what else to say.

His mom ended up breaking the silence that time. “And you’re safe?” Lucille asked. Gob sighed. He got enough of that from Michael; he didn’t need it from his mom, too. “You had a child from a high school affair; I don’t think it’s unfair for me to ask this question.”

Fine. She had a point. “Yes, mom. I’m very safe. And I get tested.”

She nodded and they both silently had their drinks. Part of Gob was getting antsy, wanting to either play music or turn on the TV or do  _something_  that would make things normal and diffuse the tension. But he also had a feeling that this wasn’t something they’d talk about again. Maybe his mom wouldn’t fall completely silent at any reference to his sexuality in the future, maybe a gay joke on  _Frasier_  wouldn’t ruin the whole mood, but he was certain they wouldn’t have any reason to be this open and honest again. If Gob had any questions, he had to get them out now.

And he had a burning one.

“…You really don’t…you don’t hate me?” Gob asked. He almost rolled his eyes at how broken and  _pathetic_  he sounded to his own ears. He had wanted to be matter-of-fact about it, nonchalant and cool like his mom was, like Michael could be, like Anna. But Gob wasn’t able to do that. He wore his heart on his sleeve— _sensitive_ , as his dad would mockingly say.

At first, his mom said nothing, which made him instantly regret asking. But, after a sip of her martini, she said, “It’s not my favorite thing about you.” Another sip. “But it’s not my  _least_  favorite thing about you.”

It wasn’t quite the answer to the question he asked, but he’d take it.

“What’s your least favorite thing about me?” Gob asked.

Why did he ask that?

“Your fashion sense,” Lucille said automatically. “You’d think with your… _preferences_  you’d be better at it. But I guess your kind has always been too tacky for my taste.”

It was a nicer answer than Gob expected, honestly.

“…What’s your favorite part about me?”

“You make the best drinks in the family,” Lucille answered at once, handing Gob her empty glass as a signal to make her another one. Gob had hoped for a better answer, but, well, it was probably the most honest one.

The two of them drank some more. Much like Gob had predicted, the conversation drifted away from the subject at hand. He eventually turned on the TV and, while there wasn’t an episode of  _Frasier_ , he did find a marathon of  _The Golden Girls_ , which seemed appropriate enough. It was definitely gay enough, at least.

Once the channel started some evangelical special and his mom had made her way through several drinks, Gob figured it was time to call it a night. He turned off his TV and was about to tell her that, when she suddenly spoke.

“Your passion.”

“What?” Gob asked.

“My favorite thing about you,” Lucille said. “Your passion.” She looked over at his piano. “I had no idea when you first sat there…I had never seen you so gentle. So  _focused_. I didn’t realize signing you up for lessons would lead to all of… _this_.” Gob wasn’t sure if there was a specific “this” she was referring to, but he didn’t ask.

“I don’t understand why you play all the things you do, like that Stravinsky when you first got here?” She shook her head at the memory. “But you…you bring something special to everything you play. No matter what you’re playing, I can tell you love doing it, and that makes some of the less-than-pleasing music much more tolerable.” Lucille looked back at him and said, “That’s my favorite thing about you. That and your drink-making abilities.”

Minutes later, when his mom left in a taxi he called for her, Gob let himself really soak in those words. And while he found himself wiping up his eyes again, he felt better than he had all summer.

* * *

 

“Wow, Bluth; looking good.”

Gob looked down at his body and then back up at Tony. “Yeah?” Gob asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I mean, you looked great on that cover, but…wow,” Tony said, giving him a once over that made Gob a bit too excited. Okay, he needed to stop that right now.

“It’s no big deal. Just…lots of gross, bland food and hours at the gym with Steve,” Gob said simply.

“Yeah? How’s the son doing?” Tony asked as they got in line.

“Good, good. He just graduated from high school. I went to the graduation. Which was…the _weirdest_ thing ever, really. But I’m really proud of him.”

“That’s great.”

They were called up to order next and, yet again, Tony insisted he’d pay. “Come on; you had a big summer, Mr. Coverboy.”

Gob shook his head with a laugh, but agreed he could pay. Tony ordered an Americano again, but Gob had done his research that time. “I’ll have a latté,” he said.

When he got his drink, he realized he definitely would’ve preferred it iced, but at least this one was actually tolerable.

As they sat at that same coffeehouse they had last hung out at together, their conversation flowed just as easily as before. Tony told Gob all about his summer, all of the performances he did, how he spent some time with his family.

“How are things going with that?” Gob asked.

“We’re getting better every time we talk,” Tony said honestly. “I’m allowed to call Angela ‘Angie’ again, so we’re getting there.”

“That’s great,” Gob said honestly. “I’m glad for you.”

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Tony said. “Well, what about you? I have to imagine that article caused some things, huh?”

Gob laughed slightly. “That’s putting it _mildly_.” He laughed some more. “God, it’s been a _crazy_ summer.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I actually stopped talking to Michael for, like, nearly two weeks.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. I kinda…kinda just finally got a lot off my chest. I guess it’s good that I said what I did, but I was so angry with him for, like, the whole summer, just over everything with our dad…” Gob shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, things are definitely out in the open now.”

“Definitely.” He smiled a little. “I actually had a really nice talk with my mom about it, too.”

“Yeah? That’s great.”

“I mean, it’s like twenty years later than it should’ve happened, but oh well,” Gob said with a laugh.

“Better late than never,” Tony said, tilting his coffee cup a little. Gob clinked his against his and had a sip of his drink.

This was nice. This was great. He could totally handle this whole being friends thing. Totally. He didn’t have anything to “process” since he was _totally_ over it. His peace was there and his heart was light. He had found it all just  _fine_. And Gob was sure of that, right until Tony looked at his watch after they had been there for a couple of hours.

“I should go; I’m meeting up with Sally for dinner.”

Oh.

“That’s still happening, huh?” Gob asked, hoping his voice didn't sound as tight as his throat felt.

“Yeah. She decided to stick with me even after all those months apart,” Tony said with a laugh. “I’m pretty lucky.”

“Yeah. Pretty lucky.”

They threw out their coffee cups and walked out together. Then Tony said, “Let’s meet up soon, yeah? Start planning out some _Pierrot Lunaire_?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Tony lifted his arms and suddenly was hugging Gob, his hair lightly brushing against Gob’s chin. Gob hugged him back after a second, resisting the urge to hug him as tightly as he wanted to, his eyes closing. How did that part of the poem go?

_My chest urges itself toward him. Ah, might I grasp and hold him!_

Soon, Tony was pulling away and Gob was jerked out of the Lieder as Tony was smiling up at him. “I missed you this summer, man.”

“I missed you, too.”

With that, Tony waved and walked off, soon driving away. Gob watched, unable to move as he felt his heart weighing heavily in his chest.

_My peace is gone, my heart is heavy…_

Gob hit his forehead with both hands as he felt the spinning wheel pattern in his head.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This got long! I! Wow! I honestly don't know if the rest of these will still be as long as this. I just hope that no matter what the length gets to be, you guys will still read them after s5b airs since I don't think I'll finish before then at this rate. Of course, half of the reason why it's this long is because I don't like leaving the chapters at an unhappy ending. I guess, much like Bach, I just love me some Picardy thirds ;)
> 
> (that was lame but I will NOT apologize for it)
> 
> Anyways! I really hope you guys like it! And I really, really hope you listen to the chapter song! It's really fitting for Gob at the moment (unfortunately), and I really adore the song. I took a class on art song in my undergrad and we literally had a sing along to this song since you study it SO MUCH in art song and in music history. It's truly a turning point in music history. And I linked the translation above since I sprinkled just a couple of references to other stanzas in the fic. Sooooo have fun with that if you so choose!
> 
> In very exciting news, I also have the playlist not just on [8tracks](https://8tracks.com/valenciaperez/etude-no-3-in-g-sharp-minor-s-141), but it's also now on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/1212091391/playlist/12q2Ri5nb9HHpgrlehsAdk?si=Ojd8mOLgRPKHrxNEHxbr9Q)! You can also find the first one on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/1212091391/playlist/0uzhKn2NNiHku5vpEHdqGG?si=-HgHiKDYTuCMUhj3yJZg_g) as well!
> 
> Anyways, thank you guys so, SO much for reading! I really hope you guys liked this chapter, and let me know what you think!! <3


	9. Réminiscences de Don Juan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is some smut in this chapter. If you are uncomfortable reading it, just skip to the next line break and you can pick up the story from there!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Réminiscences de Don Juan (S. 418)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6PNNctWmgo)  
>  By Franz Liszt (an opera fantasy on themes from Mozart's _Don Giovanni_ )

**Réminiscences de Don Juan**

“Why didn’t you warn me they used _that_ Queen song?” Gob asked Anna, wiping his eyes as the credits rolled on the TV of the model home.

After lots of persistence, Anna had managed to convince Gob to watch what she considered the best movie to deal with heartbreak, _Moulin Rouge_. Gob had been hesitant to give it a chance since it truly always looked so _weird_ to him when it first came out. She had told him it was loosely based on _La traviata_ with touches of  _La bohéme_ , which had intrigued him, but he only agreed to give it a chance when she mentioned it had a Queen song in it.

She had failed to mention it was [“The Show Must Go On”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YCLDvhaM-Q), a song that still made him tear up every time he heard it. That combined with the slow demise of Satine and the heartbreak that the Christian guy went through was enough to make Gob cry.

“I didn’t know that song would make you lose it!” Anna said honestly. “But you need to cry after heartbreak, which is why I’ve been saying you should watch this.”

“You didn’t cry,” Gob accused. “You _never_ cry.”

“I cry. Just not often. And I cried the first time I saw this. It’s the movie I wish I could’ve watched during my divorce.”

“You know, I always thought _Dirty Dancing_ was the perfect sort of break-up movie, though,” Lindsay said thoughtfully.

“Right!” Gob agreed. Not only did it reaffirm, at least to him, that love was real, but it was _hot_. Anna made a face and Gob asked, “What? You can’t appreciate a movie about dancing that isn’t ballet?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “No. I appreciate all kinds; Northwestern's dance program even made me do a lot of modern, thank you very much,” she said. With a sigh, she explained, “My ex-husband was— _is_ , I guess—a dancer. We met in a partner dance class in college and, at his suggestion, our first dance was to the theme from _Dirty Dancing_ with the full dance from the movie and everything." She frowned, "I guess it kind of fit us story-wise. He was a bit less… _affluent_ than I was and I never danced like that until I met him.”

“Did he also call you ‘Baby’?” Gob asked with a smirk.

“Only when someone tried to put me in a corner,” Anna deadpanned.

“You did the whole dance? Including the lift?” Lindsay asked. Anna nodded and Lindsay sighed wistfully. “I always wanted to do that.”

“Yeah, well…it _was_ fun,” she admitted.

Gob nodded. “I always wanted to do it, too.” When they looked at him, he said, “Like Johnny, not Baby. No guy has let me try it, but I bet I could do it.”

“You could probably do someone skinny like Lindsay,” Anna said. “Or me. But I’m tiny, so that barely counts.” Gob held back from saying how he was sure he could do it with Tony.

After a moment, Michael mumbled, “I could probably do it, too.”

Anna raised an eyebrow before saying, “No need to be jealous. You can do a lot of things he couldn't.” She kissed him on the cheek and Gob and Lindsay rolled their eyes at each other. Michael and Anna were _so_ gross.

And it wasn’t just something they thought because they were both single.

“That Christian guy was nice to look at, at least,” Gob said. “Pretty hot.”

“Much hotter than he is in the new _Star Wars_ movies,” Lindsay said. Both Gob and Michael wrinkled their noses and scoffed at the mention of the _Star Wars_ prequels.

“Just another thing those prequels fucked up,” Gob muttered. “I mean, what’s the point of a _Star Wars_ movie without Han?”

“And adding in all that _awful_ lore?” Michael said with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, mitochondria or whatever—”

“The powerhouse of the cell?” Anna asked, confused.

“No, it’s some dumb thing they made up that didn’t need to exist,” Gob said darkly.

“God, and that annoying _child_ ,” Michael said with a shake of his head. “How am I supposed to believe he’s Darth Vader?”

“That _insufferable child_!” Gob agreed angrily.

“And that Jar Jar Binks or whatever in the very first one?” Lindsay crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Totally awful. It just wasn’t any fun.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Totally agreed.”

“…I didn’t know even know Ewan was in the new _Star Wars_ ,” Anna said. She shrugged, “Probably because I haven’t seen the new  _Star Wars_ movies.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Michael said.

“Well, I’m sure it’d be a waste of time since I wouldn’t know what was going on, anyways, since I haven’t seen the original, ei—”

“ _What?!_ ” Lindsay, Michael, and Gob all exclaimed at once.

Anna looked a little scared at their reaction. “What? I was, like, a baby when it first came out. And it’s not like my parents are into that sort of thing. Their type of nerdery is watching foreign movies and documentaries.”

Michael shook his head. “I was really young when it came out and I’ve _still_ seen every single one. _Including_ the awful prequels.”

Lindsay nodded in agreement. “Same here. Gob’s the only one who got to see it in theaters when it first came out.”

“Yeah, our maid took me with her son.”

“You _have_ to see it,” Michael said.

“You at least have to see Han Solo,” Gob insisted.

Lindsay nodded in agreement. “Harrison Ford in his prime is totally worth it.”

Gob grinned, “I always wanted to be Han.”

“You always wanted to _fuck_ Han,” Lindsay said with a snort. At Gob’s look, she said, “What? After you came out it became pretty clear that your obsession was very much a crush.”

“I don’t wanna fuck Han Solo,” Gob said. But, after a moment, he tilted his head and quietly asked himself, “ _Would_ I fuck Han Solo?” After a moment, Gob shook his head. “Whatever. Anna, you still haven’t seen it and that’s _weird_.”

“We _really_ need to fix that,” Michael said.

Anna sighed. “Fine. Someone else will have to provide a copy, though.”

Michael grinned, “You’re gonna love it.”

Anna smiled at him. “Well, if you love it, I’m sure I will.” They both smiled at each other and, yet again, Lindsay and Gob rolled their eyes.

And, again, it wasn’t because they were _jealous_ or whatever. It was purely because Anna and Michael were _gross_.

_Obviously._

“Well, I should get going,” Gob said, not interested in watching any sort of love fest that would possibly happen between his brother and his agent. “I’m seeing the matinee of _Der Rosenkavalier_ tomorrow.”

“Oh, I _love_ that opera,” Anna said. “Are you going alone?”

Gob stood up and said, “Nope.”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Is it a date?”

“No. Just a friend.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, too. “It’s not with Tony, is it?”

Gob paused for a beat. “Would it matter if it was?”

Lindsay groaned, “ _Gob!”_

“What?”

“We planned this whole night because you were heartbroken over him not having feelings back. Remember?”

“Oh, no, Anna, I had forgotten that part; _thanks_ ,” Gob said sarcastically. Before they could protest anymore, he said, “Look, Tony’s my _friend_. No matter how I feel about him, that’s the most important part of this whole thing. He’s my friend and I’m not going to stop hanging out with him just because of these dumb feelings that will fade eventually.”

“You’re never going to get over him if you keep hanging around him,” Lindsay said.

“Hey, absence makes the heart grow fonder, so closeness must do the opposite, right?” Gob said with a shrug. “Besides, he invited me and I’m not turning down an opportunity to see one of my favorite operas of all time.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Michael said.

Gob glared and darkly replied, “Neither was hiding our fugitive father in your fucking attic.” Both Anna and Lindsay winced silently. “I don’t think you get to tell me what’s stupid anymore.”

Michael looked down guiltily and simply nodded his head. “Right.”

Gob nodded as well and relaxed his glare before heading out the door, refusing to let their doubts linger in his head.

* * *

“That was _amazing_ ,” Tony said breathlessly after the opera ended.

“Right? It’s beautiful,” Gob agreed. “And it’s actually pretty funny. Not a lot of ‘comic’ operas really are.”

Tony nodded. “Totally. I mean, I guess as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to like some things I didn’t find as funny when I was younger, you know? Like Shakespeare and stuff.”

“I haven’t even _touched_ Shakespeare since high school—if I even touched it _then_.”

“Oh, god, me neither, but I’ve seen a couple plays.”

“I’ve seen a couple of the operas…and, I mean, the Mendelssohn _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ overture is, like, the only thing of his I like,” Gob said as they started heading over to a nearby café for dinner.

“Aw, come on; you should be nicer to my boy Mendelssohn!”

“I’m sorry, man, but most of his stuff is so _boring_. At least where piano is considered.”

“Well, he wrote one of the _best_ violin concertos. That’s worth something.”

“Not for a pianist,” Gob pointed out. Tony laughed but ultimately agreed.

Once they had ordered their food and sat down, Gob brought up the opera again. “I love [that trio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fi810zB3L04) so much,” he admitted. “You know, between Octavian, Sophie, and the Marschallin?”

“That gave me _chills_ ,” Tony agreed. Gob nodded. It actually made him tear up the first time he ever heard it and, despite how emotional people thought he was, he hadn’t cried that often from just music alone, so that was actually saying something. “How their voices blended together and everything? Strauss _really_ knew how to write for female voices. At least Richard Strauss did. I’m not familiar with the Waltz King Strauss.”

“He wrote, like, one operetta, so I guess he was alright,” Gob said, his nose wrinkled. He had to play one of the really annoying ones from that opera a lot when he accompanied singers for competitions.  

“I could barely follow what they were all saying in the supertitles, but it was still so beautiful.”

“Yeah. It’s hard to keep up with the text since they’re all saying different things, even though it’s slow.” Gob had seen it enough times that he knew the rough idea of what they were all saying.

The opera, though comic, dealt a lot with some serious ideas, and the trio was definitely the emotional climax of the main stories. At the start of the opera, the Marschallin, an old princess named Marie Therese, was having an affair with the much younger knight, Octavian—played by a woman in a trousers role. The Marschallin’s cousin, Baron Ochs, who no one really liked, was getting engaged to a young woman named Sophie and had to send a knight with a silver rose to her, as was custom. The Marschallin told him to use Octavian. Of course, Octavian and Sophie fell in love at first sight and then spent the third act performing a ruse to get the engagement called off by Sophie’s father.

The trio, one of the last parts of the opera, had the three main characters—Sophie, Octavian, and the Marschallin—singing, more or less, their inner-thoughts. The Marschallin, who had already said Octavian would leave her one day for someone younger, eventually decides to let him go by the end of the trio, choosing to be selfless in love and let him be happy with Sophie.

“You know, for being a comic opera, it kinda has an unhappy ending for the Marschallin, don’t you think?” Tony said. “Being left old and alone?”

“Right? She was already freaking out about being old in the beginning, and then Octavian leaves her for a younger woman,” Gob said. “Kinda sucks for her.”

“Yeah, even if it _was_ her decision to let him go.”

Gob shrugged. “He wouldn’t have stayed if he was given a choice.”

“True,” Tony agreed. “The heart wants what it wants, I guess.”

“And they’ll probably still be… _friends_ , I guess? Right? And seeing him around is probably better than nothing to her,” Gob said.

And, no, he wasn’t projecting anything at _all_. Even if he had to stop himself from thinking about how this was a perfect date: classical music, casual dinner, easy flowing conversation…

It was why after they parted ways, Gob went home and changed into a less formal outfit and headed out to one of the local gay clubs.

See, he knew what Michael and everyone said was true. He knew spending time with Tony wasn’t the smartest thing to do. He had _some_ sense of logic after all. Not a lot, but _some_ . But the idea of never seeing Tony just because of his stupid _love_ feelings sounded completely _terrible._

Then again, he also knew seeing Tony led to that Gretchen spinning wheel motif playing in his head. It led to him imagining what it would be like to pull Tony into his lap—he’d fit so perfectly there—or what it would feel like to curl up around him at night—Gob could just imagine himself wrapping his arms and legs around him and feeling so comfy—or what it would feel like to be held down by him and _fucked_ —Gob could so easily imagine Tony smirking as he hovered over him, teasing him, making him _beg_ —

It was stuff like that, those thoughts and images that Gob knew he had to stop. And he knew the best ways to make them stop: get some drinks, maybe get a little high, and definitely find someone who looked nothing like Tony to spend the night with. He couldn't think about Tony if he was inebriated or if he was too busy fucking.

It was the perfect system and, just a few hours later, he was passed out in a stranger’s bed. And when said stranger woke him up the next day for another round, it at least gave Gob another chance to forget about Tony Wonder and his own stupid, stupid _feelings_.

* * *

Almost as soon as Gob entered the living room of the model home, he asked Lindsay and Michael, “Am I old?”

“You’re older than us,” Lindsay said with a shrug, “but I wouldn’t call you old.”

“What brought this on?”

Gob pulled out a letter from his pocket and handed it to Michael. As Gob collapsed in his favorite chair in the house, Michael unfolded the piece of paper. “Oh, wow, it really _has_ been twenty years since you graduated high school, huh?”

Gob groaned loudly and ran his hands over his face. “I’m so fucking _old_.”

Lindsay looked at the invitation Michael was holding for Gob’s high school reunion. “Wow, just a week away?” She looked over it before groaning, “Oh god, that means _our_ reunion is in _two years_ . God, I _better_ be married again by then, or at least engaged. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to go to a twentieth high school reunion and be _unmarried_?” Michael gave her a look and Gob glared as well. It still took her a moment to realize her mistake, but when she did, she rushed out, “I mean, you’re a widower, Michael, and, Gob, you can’t even get married anyways, so it’s different for you two.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Linds,” Gob said bitterly.

Trying to change to a lighter subject, Michael asked as he handed the letter back, “So, are you going to go?”

“ _Hell_ no."

“You don’t want to relive your glory days?” Gob snorted and Michael continued, “Gob, you were president, Prom King, all the different types of Homecoming royalty—”

“And now I’m gay. Very _publicly_ gay,” Gob said. After the whole _Poco_ interview, Gob had gotten more interviews with bigger magazines and newspapers, so it seemed unlikely that any of his high school friends _wouldn’t_ know he was gay at that point. “I stopped hanging out with, like, half of my friends my senior year when I realized how much they hated gay people. I can’t imagine they’re gonna welcome me back with open arms. Enough of them were weirded out enough when I applied to music schools as is. It’s not like I really openly advertised I played classical music back then; I normally just played Springsteen and shit. That’s how I lost my V-card after all.”

After yet another moment, he added, “God, I’m not sure I want to see any of the girls, either. They have to be pissed about all of it, don’t you think? Turning out gay after being a high school Casablanca and everything?”

Michael looked ready to correct him, but then shook his head and asked, “Do you think Eve’s going to go?”

“No idea.”

“Maybe she’d like some company if she is,” Michael said. Gob looked over at him and Michael quickly said, “You know, if you want to go, but don’t want to go alone. That’s all.” In a way, Gob kinda missed Michael being a busy body and all bossy, but he had to admit he liked how just shooting him a look made him shut up ever since their fight.

“It might be worth showing off to everyone,” Lindsay said. “And it kind of feels like you’re obligated since, you know, you were president.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gob said. He sighed. “It _would_ be nice to not be single there; you were right about that. Eve and I could have fun, but being gay _and_ single after twenty years…it’s a lot. At least having a date there would help, but it’s too close to find anyone.”

“You could find a date in a week’s time! Don’t you have some little black book you can bring out to find a date?” Lindsay asked.

“I have a little black book of people to _fuck_ ; we don’t really ‘date’…I haven’t even been on a date since Gary.” Before either of the twins could try to say something about how he should get out there or something, Gob added, “I guess only Michael gets to be attached out of all of us.” After a moment, Gob added, “You’re welcome for hooking you two up, by the way.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Michael replied, even though he had thanked Gob already. Multiple times.

“You haven’t started over-thinking it, have you?”

Michael shook his head. “She really gets it, so, like, we have enough space, but also not _too_ much space.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I really like her…” He looked down at his lap and admitted, “I…I love her.”

“Yeah?”

 “Yeah…” Michael said, a big, goofy smile on his face. Lindsay and Gob shared a look; they hadn’t seen him smile like that in _years_. That was a look always saved for Tracey. “She kinda reminds me of ‘[Your Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkxj-FBEH1w)’, you know? The Elton John one they did in _Moulin Rouge_?”

“How so?” Gob asked.

“Her eyes…they’re, like, between blue and green. Depending on the light and what she’s wearing and everything…” Michael was still grinning so widely Gob was sure his cheeks had to hurt. “I think that’s gonna be our song.”

“Really?” Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “Michael…Anna was a ballerina. She _danced_. And she’s barely five feet tall. And _that’s_ the Elton John song you’re picking?” Gob laughed when he realized what she meant.

“She’s right! You’re dating a literal ‘[Tiny Dancer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYcyacLRPNs)’.”

Michael rolled his eyes as his siblings laughed. “I don’t think she’d appreciate that joke. Besides, you saw how much she loved that movie. I think she’d like ‘Your Song’ better.”

“So, have you told her yet?”

Suddenly, Michael looked away and shook his head. “…I haven’t told anyone that besides Tracey.” He looked guilty. “I…I only felt like this about Tracey.”

“Oh, Michael,” Lindsay said sympathetically. She reached over and put a hand on top of her twin’s. “She’d want you to be happy.”

“Yeah, Mikey,” Gob agreed.

“I know,” Michael said. “I just…it’s hard.”

They were all silent for a moment, no one really sure what to say to that. Finally, Lindsay asked, “Where _is_ Anna, by the way? She hasn’t been around lately.”

“Visiting her family. Her sister just had a baby so they’re all back home for a visit.”

Gob wrinkled his nose. “Ew. Having to go back to Ohio this time of year? Gross.”

“It can’t be that much colder than New York was in the fall,” Michael pointed out.

“But it’s the midwest, and it’s not like they even live in a city,” Gob said. “Not that any city in Ohio is worth it anyways, but _Oberlin_? Gross.”

Lindsay snorted. “You’re just still bitter that you didn’t get into college there.”

“No!” Gob said defensively. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go to that middle of nowhere geek school anyways. Even _Anna_ didn’t go, and she could’ve gone for, like, _free_ and she’s all about that practical shit.”

Michael laughed quietly. “It’s funny to imagine if you _did_ go there, though. You could’ve run into her on campus or had one of her parents for a professor.”

“Ew. They teach like…literature and Greek stuff or whatever. I _never_ would’ve taken their classes,” Gob said, shivering at the thought. “They visited New York a couple of times. They’re nice enough and have some good opinions on music, but they're… _weird_. Totally not what you expect from her. They’re basically hippies.”

“That’s Oberlin for you,” Michael said with a shrug.

“Yeah. And I guess that’s part of why they gave their little Gigi such a weird name,” Gob laughed. That was one of many nicknames he had heard them call her, much to her displeasure.

“…Gigi?” Lindsay asked, raising an eyebrow.

Michael explained, “Anna isn’t her legal name.”

Gob sighed in relief. Anna would've killed him if Michael found out about her real name from him instead of her. “I can’t believe she already told you; I only knew because she has to sign contracts with her real name,” Gob said. “Well, and because when I was switching agents, she told me that so we could bond over hating our first names. You know, to try to win me over and everything. Luckily for her, it worked, because we both prefer our nicknames and hate being George.”

“Her name isn’t _George_ ; it’s _Georgiana_.”

“Same difference,” Gob scoffed. He shook his head and said, “I always forget her real name isn’t Anna, though; it suits her so well.”

“She _is_ Agent Anna,” Michael said with a smile. It was crazy that the person he had heard about for years as that nickname was now his girlfriend.

Lindsay laughed, too. “That’s _really_ crazy. Not even a Bluth yet and she has a traditional Bluth name. It must be meant to be.”

Michael looked like he wanted to roll his eyes again, but instead he found himself smiling with a slight shrug. “Maybe.”

Lindsay and Gob locked eyes yet again, but resisted the urge to roll them. At least it was nice to see their brother happy.

Even if he was really, _really_ gross about it.

* * *

“Why did I bother coming to this, again?” Gob asked.

“I don’t know. The open bar?” Eve suggested.

“It _does_ have its advantages,” Gob sighed as the bartender handed him another scotch on the rocks.

“Hey, at least you get to be one of the success stories of this place,” Eve pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s not like any of my old friends are wild about the gay thing,” Gob said. While some of the guys he used to hang out with were relatively cool and just wanted to catch up, Gob could tell that a lot of them were uncomfortable around him. A few of them tried to make jokes, which he assumed was a way to try to break the ice, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

“At least you're not the one who had a son with the gay kid,” Eve said. At Gob’s look, she said, “I love Steve and I have no regrets, but getting knocked up by a gay guy? It’s not the best look. Especially when your boyfriend can’t come so they all think you’re still hung up on said gay guy.”

“Yeah, well,” Gob muttered, “at least you _have_ a boyfriend.”

“Yeah…” After a moment, she offered, “You know, if you’re interested, I _do_ know some guys I think you could—”

“I’m not interested in blind dates,” Gob said. Eve actually hadn’t been the first person to offer to set him up. A lot of people, mostly some girls, had offered, which just made him feel even _more_ pathetic for being single at his twentieth high school reunion in the first place. “I like to see what I’m getting into bed with _before_ I spread my legs.”

Eve wrinkled her nose. “You know that you don’t _have_ to sleep with someone just because you have one date.”

“I might as well get _something_ out of it,” Gob said simply.

“…I guess…”

With that, Gob surveyed the crowd. It had been a long and draining night. He was just starting to wonder ( _shut up, brain_ ) if he could find some formerly closeted classmate or other to make the night more interesting when Eve suddenly said, “Oh, shit.” Her eyes widened as Gob was snapped out of his daze. “Is that _Tommy?_ ”

Gob looked over and tried to follow where she was looking. His eyes soon landed on a tall figure with dark hair, blue eyes, and dimples that Gob very much remembered. The guy who played Jesus in _Jesus Christ Superstar_. The first guy Gob had actually realized he was attracted to and maybe sort of crushed on despite having nothing in common with him. The guy who took his sister to prom and definitely got a hotel room with her…

Yeah, Gob tried not to think about that part.

“Holy shit, it _is_.”

“And he’s still _really_ hot.”

“Yeah,” Gob agreed with a dreamy smile.

They both slowly looked at each other. “…Did you have a crush on Tommy throughout _Jesus Christ Superstar_?” Eve asked.

“Did _you_?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?”

“We were dating at the time!”

“And you were _gay_ at the time!”

After staring at each other for a little longer, they both laughed. “God. He was _so_ cute, wasn’t he?” Eve said. “I kept hoping we’d get to kiss for the show. You know, even if, from a biblical perspective, that would’ve pissed me off.”

“I was just so happy he wasn’t shirtless for the King Herod scene,” Gob laughed. “He was pretty boring, honestly, but he was _hot_. It was a lot to handle when I was trying to figure everything out.”

Eve nodded. “If I didn’t have a boyfriend…”

“If he was gay and hadn’t fucked my sister…Or at least the gay part.”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s made some realizations. He _was_ in theater, after all.”

“Not everyone who does theater is gay,” Gob said. Still, one could hope. “Besides, the sister thing. Lindsay and I have a dibs system I honor.” He gave Tommy the once over again and added, “…Well, we didn’t have dibs back then.”

A few seconds later, Tommy looked their way and they both waved at him. Tommy’s (handsome) face lit up with recognition and he started to make his way over. Eve and Gob quickly gave each other a once over, making sure the other looked good and had nothing in their teeth.

“Hey! My Mary!” Tommy greeted Eve, giving her a hug. He gave Gob a salute and said, “Mr. President!”

“I mean, Herod was a king, but…” Gob said, smiling anyways.

Tommy gave him an odd look. “I meant, like, student body president.”

“Oh, yeah. I always forget that.”

Tommy smiled that dimpled smile Gob could remember so clearly. Even with a bit of gray in his hair, he still looked as handsome as ever.

“We were kind of surprised to see you,” Eve said. “You know, since you were only here for our senior year. I kinda thought you wouldn’t want to come.”

Tommy shrugged. “I still had a great time here. Lots of memories. And I just got a transfer to an office down here, so I figured I might as well.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer. Corporate stuff.”

“Oh, wow. Fascinating.”

Tommy laughed. “I don’t know if it’s _that_ fascinating. Definitely not compared to Gob, here,” he said with a nod in his direction. Gob grinned proudly. “It’s kinda cool to say I knew you now that you’re off being a big shot.”

“Well, I haven’t sung in a musical since ours, so you really got to see a lot more than most people can claim,” Gob said.

“A rare, vintage George Bluth II, huh? I like the idea of that.”

Eve looked between the two of them and raised an eyebrow at Gob while Tommy busied himself with ordering a drink. Gob shrugged; he wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be flirting or not. He wasn’t getting any gay vibes off of him. But, then again, he didn’t get any vibes off of Gary, either.

And, when he picked up his drink, Gob couldn’t help but notice that Tommy’s left hand was missing a ring.

“So, you two kept in touch over the years?” Tommy asked.

Talk about a loaded question. “Uh, not until this past year, really,” Gob said.

“Yeah…” Eve looked at Gob and then back at Tommy. “We, uh, lost touch. After he broke up with me and everything, you know. I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing him again.”

“Then I did a demonstration for one of her music classes as part of my job with the symphony up here,” Gob explained. “And she dropped the bombshell that we had a son.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He looked between the two of them before, somewhat awkwardly asking, “But…I thought the paper said…?”

“Yeah, I’m gay, but, well, prom night happened,” Gob said simply. “So…it’s weird.”

“Not the best circumstance, but I really love my son— _our_ son.”

“Steve’s great,” Gob agreed. “And it’s probably for the better that I didn’t know until last year. I really wasn’t ready to be a dad. But Eve’s done a great job as a mom.”

“Thanks,” Eve said, giving him a smile. Suddenly, Eve’s phone started to ring and she looked down at it. “That would be my boyfriend,” she said happily. “Excuse me.”

She went off to answer her phone and Gob and Tommy watched her go for a moment before looking back at each other.

“So. You’ve read one of my articles?” Gob asked.

“Yeah. A few of them, actually. My sister actually sent me that interview you did for the _LA Gazette_ , the one with the, uh, beach pictures?” Tommy chuckled, as did Gob. Some of the photoshoots had strayed from the usual artist profile photos and, while he hadn’t been wearing swimwear or anything in that shoot, it definitely showed off some of the hard work he had put into the gym more than the others had. Tommy said, “She sent me a link. She thought I’d be interested because I knew you and everything.”

Interesting…

“I’ve seen a few others, too. And, you know, I think it’s really brave of you. How open you’ve been about coming out and your dad and everything. It’s really important to be honest about these things,” Tommy said.

“…Right,” Gob said, feeling his heart speeding up a bit.

“So, congrats, man. Not many people can let themselves be that honest, you know?” Tommy said. Gob nodded.

They talked a bit more. Well, Tommy did a lot more of the talking, since Gob kept on debating internally whether Tommy was flirting or not, and if he was, was it wrong for Gob to make a move given the Lindsay of it all? Maybe he could call and ask her what she thought…you know, if Tommy made it clear that he was interested.

It seemed to be heading that way when, eventually, Tommy slowly said, “So, I wanted to ask you something…it’s kinda personal, but…”

“Yes?” Gob said, holding himself back from leaning in close.

“…How’s your sister doing? And is she single, by any chance?”

Gob froze for a moment. Then he let out a small laugh. Yeah, that checked out. “Yeah. Yeah, recently single and definitely ready to mingle. And still very blonde and very skinny.” Before Tommy could even ask, Gob said, “I can give you her number.”

They talked for a bit longer after Gob gave him Lindsay’s contact information and took his own phone number just in case. Eventually Tommy went to talk to someone else and Gob looked around the gym full of his former classmates. He still could barely believe it had really been twenty years since he graduated; it certainly didn’t feel like it. But it definitely _looked_ like it, at least with some of his classmates. Both with their physical appearances and the fact that most of them seemed to have spouses with them.

He wondered if he looked as old as some of his classmates did…

Gob finished off his scotch in one gulp before texting Eve that he was heading out. He needed to get out of there. It was totally boring, open bar or not.

* * *

When Gob got to the model home, he soon found Anna in the kitchen. “Hey. Welcome back to civilization.”

Anna looked up from what she was reading and snorted. “Thanks.” She shook her head. “I love seeing my family from time-to-time, but _god_ am I glad to not live there anymore.”

“How’s the new niece-slash-nephew?”

“Cute,” Anna said with a shrug. After a moment, she added, “It’s her second kid, I don’t see why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. “She’s younger than you, right?”

“I’m the oldest of us three, yes,” Anna said. Before Gob could say anything else, she said, “I’m not _jealous_. I am in no position to have a kid yet, so don’t even start with me. Gwen tried to insist I was enough, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Gob said. He looked her over, finally noticing how, instead of the usual clothes she wore, she was dressed in sneakers, sweats, and minimal make-up. “Did you bring the Midwest back with you via your wardrobe?”

“No. Your brother and I are going on a bike ride,” she said. Though her words were simple, she was smiling in a way Gob had never really seen before.

It was cute, but it honestly made him a little annoyed all the same.

“I forget how short you really are,” Gob commented. “Do they not make high heeled sportswear?”

“I think all the platform sneakers were buried with the Spice Girls’ career.” She tilted her head and asked, “By the way, should I be concerned that your niece handed me a business card that said she was a movie exec and that she’d have her people call me about you? Because it feels like I should be concerned about that.”

Gob shrugged. “I don’t think so. It seems like a pretty sweet gig. I could even wear what you’re wearing to work and still get paid.” He grinned and said, “Besides, my voice is _perfect_ for it. Her words.” He stood up proudly while Anna just stared for a moment.

“…That wasn’t what I was getting at, but okay,” she said. They both turned towards the front door as they heard it open. “We’ll discuss it later,” she said in a hushed voice.

They soon heard his mom call out, “Michael! Gob! I saw your cars out there!”

“What could _she_ want?” Anna muttered.

“She probably wants to complain about another article.” Despite the talk they had, his mom hadn’t been fond of all the press Gob had received since they all focused so much on his sexuality.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Probably. I guess it’s a good thing I’m here,” she muttered, which Gob agreed with. Not only was Anna better at handling those conversations than him, but it was very entertaining watching her spar with his mom. He and Lindsay normally tried to sit in on any conversations they had regardless of what the subject matter was for that reason. “Of _course_ she has to come over when I didn’t wear a power outfit or heels.”

“At least your feet are comfortable?” Gob said. Anna sighed before she and Gob made their way into the living room.

“Lucille,” Anna said as Michael, also dressed rather casually, made his way into the living room as well. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Lucille gave Anna’s casual outfit a once over and raised her eyebrows. Before she could come up with an insult, Anna said, “Michael and I are going on a bike ride. Some of us enjoy physical activities on our dates.”

“I already knew that about you from how many nights you spend here,” Lucille responded. Gob saw Anna’s lips twitch upwards for a moment; despite how much Anna complained about dealing with his mom, Gob knew she enjoyed going up against a worthy opponent as much as his mom did.

Michael sighed. “Mom, what is it? I’d like to get going soon.”

Gob saw Lindsay come in from all the commotion as their mom opened up a magazine. “Did you see the latest _Balboa Bay Window?_ ”

“Is it something about dad?” Michael asked.

“No,” she said.

“Was it something negative about us?” Michael asked.

Lucille’s lips pursed. Instead of answering, she merely shoved the magazine towards Gob before heading to the little bar in the corner.

Gob read the headline and raised his eyebrows. “ _Newport Beach’s Most Eligible Bachelors_?” As his mom poured herself a drink, Gob flipped through the pages, stopping suddenly as he came across a picture he had taken for another interview. “I’m in it?!”

“Give me that,” Anna said as she yanked that out of his hands. “I was _not_ told about this— _LA Pride_ told me they wanted to do something like this closer to Pride month, and so did _Poco_ , but—”

“When were you going to tell me about _that_?” Gob asked.

Anna waved her hand in dismissal. “I can’t believe no one tried to contact me about this…” She flipped through a few more pages, frowning.

Michael hesitated before saying, “It’s not the most reputable journal. Mother’s been on the cover many times, and Buster’s been a guest writer.” At Gob’s look, he quickly said, “It’s still really cool that you made the list! It’s a really big deal, since you have to be the first openly gay man on it, right? There aren’t many out guys making waves in Newport.”

Again, Gob was loving how much Michael was trying to suck up to him because of the whole dad thing.

Lindsay took the magazine from Anna and looked over the page about Gob. “ _Pianist George Bluth II, son of real estate tycoon George Bluth and frequent_ Balboa Bay Window _cover model Lucille Bluth, is making our annual most eligible bachelors list for the first time. This is also our first openly gay entry._ ”

“See?” Michael said. “That’s pretty cool.”

“ _While he’s best known for his work in the classical music community_ ,” Lindsay continued reading, “ _the Newport Beach native has admitted in his recent interviews to being equally at home at piano bars or in the comfort of his home playing rock, pop, and jazz standards by ear. His recent debut recording of Liszt’s_ Grandes études de Paganini _was met with commercial and critical success and he has upcoming engagements with the LA Philharmonic, the Lincoln Symphony Orchestra, and the Long Island Philharmonic. We say it’s time to jump on this artist while he’s still single and his star is on the rise!_ ”

Gob smiled to himself and Lindsay said, “That’s a _really_ flattering article. Congrats!” She seemed extra willing to be happy for her brother’s success since Tommy had called her a couple of days ago.

“Thanks,” Gob said, grinning proudly. He took the magazine back as Lindsay moved to sit on the couch. He flipped through a few other entries and declared, “I’m totally, like, the hottest guy on this list, too! This is gonna get me _laid_ —”

“I can’t _believe_ they published that!” Lucille said, a martini glass in her hand. “You _know_ this is the exact sort of thing we should be avoiding right now!”

“What? Publicity around your successful, rising star son?” Anna asked.

“Our investors are _not_ going to be happy with this. Hasn’t he done enough publicity about this… _quirk_ of his?” Lucille asked Anna. She had learned it was best to just try to talk to her than even bother with Gob on this issue.

Gob rolled his eyes and went to sit with Lindsay and Michael on the couch. Honestly, it didn’t even hurt to have her say stuff like that, not since their talk. It was just _annoying_ how she still refused to even call him “gay”. At least he was about to get a show out of it.

Anna, without turning away from Lucille, said, “Michael? Wasn’t your company just featured on _Mad Money_?”

“Yes.”

“And what were you labeled as?”

“A ‘don’t buy’,” Michael said proudly. “Up from ‘Sell’.”

“Sounds like your company is doing as best as it can right now,” Anna told Lucille calmly.

Lucille’s eyes narrowed as she stepped in closer to Anna. Gob never realized how tall she really was, but she had to have nearly a foot over Anna, at least with the small heels she was wearing. She seemed tall enough that she should’ve intimidated Anna, but the smaller woman kept her head high and honestly looked rather intimidating herself, even as she had to tilt her head up to properly look Lucille in the eye.

“‘Sell’ might be an improvement, but that’s not saying much,” Lucille said, her voice dangerously low in that way Gob recognized all too well after years of her disciplinary actions. “Our company has a lot of growing left to do—though, of course, I’m sure is an unfamiliar concept for someone of your stature.”    

Anna merely raised an eyebrow, completely unaffected by her words. “I honestly expected better than a short joke from you.”

“Regardless,” Lucille said, dismissing Anna’s words, “I don’t see how Gob parading around and showing off his _preferences_ is going to help either of our causes. Wasn’t he supposed to performing at the Church and State Fair?”

“Yes,” Anna said simply. “And, yes, they cancelled on us, but he’s very much set when it comes to other performances. Besides, I don’t have a problem with any of my clients not playing for ethically bankrupt events, such as an event that has a tent dedicated to trying to convert someone’s sexuality.”

Lucille changed tactics. “I also find it rather tacky to be listed as an ‘eligible bachelor’ in the first place, no matter what side someone is playing for. It comes across as a rather desperate way to try to find someone to sleep with.” Gob frowned at that; maybe she had a point there. It was kind of sad to be on one of those lists when he was approaching forty, wasn’t it?

“I don’t think it’s any less tacky than sleeping with my husband’s brother,” Anna stated back.

Lindsay smiled with glee; it was about to get _good_.

Lucille’s eyes narrowed even more as she looked over Anna. “You’d need a husband to have that opportunity. Or at least manage to keep one interested.”

“And your husband has _totally_ kept his interest _solely_ in you.”

“Until you are officially a part of it, you have no business trying to discuss our family’s personal matters,” Lucille said with an arched eyebrow. “Until then, I expect you to keep your nose out of it, though I understand that might be hard given the size of it.”

Anna raised an eyebrow as well. “Then I would assume _you_ should keep your nose out of _my_ personal life until I officially join your family.” With just the slightest bit of a smirk, she added, “Of course, I’d suggest surgery to help with that, but I’m guessing you’re at the point where another surgery would turn you into more plastic than person.”

It was a rather obvious insult, sure, but it still had the intended effect. Lucille raised an eyebrow at Anna’s comment, clearly gearing up for her next barbed retort. Gob brought a hand to his mouth to cover a snicker while Lindsay smiled from ear-to-ear as she waited excitedly for what would come next.

Michael, however, looked at Anna in amazement. Even with his mom literally towering over her and the unexpected visit, Anna had held her own in a way he had never seen anyone else deal with his mom. She always did that, no matter what.

So, while his mom opened his mouth to fire something back, Michael couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “ _God_ , I love you.”

As soon as those words left his lips, Michael’s eyes widened and Anna slowly turned her head towards him, her face still rather neutral and professional. Lindsay looked more intrigued as ever as the drama went into a different direction than expected. She eagerly looked between her embarrassed twin brother and his girlfriend while both Gob and Lucille looked at Michael with raised eyebrows.

“…Odd choice for saying that for the first time,” Anna said, her voice still relatively professional. But then she broke into a smile and said, “I love you, too.”

Michael’s face split into a huge grin and Anna, still smiling widely as well, turned back to Lucille. “Gob’s press releases are to be left up to me, as that’s my job. I think that’s all that needs to be discussed.” She went over to Michael and took his hand as he stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Michael and I have a bike ride to get to.”

On their way out, Gob heard Anna whisper in Michael’s ear, “I think there’ll be some more riding when we get back.” Gob made a disgusted sound at the detail, but neither of the two of them paid them any mind as they head out of the house.

Once the door was closed, Lucille’s lips moved from pursed to the slightest bit of an impressed smirk as she crossed her arms. “Well. At least she knows how to survive in this family." Not one to leave things on a completely positive note, she looked at her remaining two children and said, "You'd be wise to learn from your brother on that matter." Her eyes landed on Gob alone as she said, "And hopefully you'll use that tacky article for some good instead of as some way to parade yourself around town. It's about time you settled down."

With that, she left the model home. Gob scoffed and looked down at the article. And he had more of these coming in even bigger publications? God, why would he ever want to be coupled up at a time like this? "I'm totally never going home alone ever again, huh?" Gob joked with a grin.

And, well, if he didn't want to end up home alone again, he had some other tricks up his sleeve…

* * *

“I got a cat!” Gob told Michael, Lindsay, and Anna as soon as they got to his house, holding said cat in his arms.

“I can see that."

“Isn’t she cute?” Gob asked, pulling the little kitten up to his chest. She meowed, her voice so small due to her age and size. Lindsay and, surprisingly, Michael both gave a small _aww_. Well, it was surprising to Anna, who was still learning things about her boyfriend, but Gob and Lindsay both knew their brother was a total softie when it came to cats.

“Can I see her?” Lindsay asked. Gob handed her over and Lindsay cooed at her and pet her under her chin. “She’s so cute! And look at her eyes! They're so _blue!_ ”

“Yeah, she’s part Siamese and part Ragdoll,” Gob said excitedly. “That’s what the shelter said, at least. So, she’s playful and vocal, but also cuddly.”

“Like father, like daughter,” Lindsay teased. Gob smiled; she wasn’t wrong.

Michael took her next, and while he didn’t coo or anything, he definitely smiled a lot, especially when she meowed again. “God, I haven’t had a cat since…Tiger?”

“Same,” Gob said, petting his new cat’s head while his brother kept holding her. Tiger had been their family cat when they were younger. He had died when Gob was twelve and it was the most heartbreaking experience he had ever had at that point.

“What’s her name?” Lindsay asked.

“Staccato,” Gob said proudly. “I thought about Clara, but I already have the Clara Schumann-Cat from Maeby and most other female composers have weird names. And she’s so jumpy and everything, so Staccato seemed perfect.”

“I’m just both surprised and grateful you didn’t go with Freddie Purrcury or something,” Lindsay joked.

Gob’s eyes widened. “…Shit. And I already ordered the collar and everything. _Fuck_.”

“Staccato is much better,” Michael said, still holding the purring kitten.

“I guess…Maybe I’ll save that for when I get a male cat.”

“Are you getting another cat or are you talking far into the future?”

Gob shrugged. “I was thinking of getting a few more. Like Freddie did, you know. But only, like, two or three.”

Michael offered the cat to Anna and, after a moment of hesitation, she took Staccato into her hands. “She’s very precious,” Anna admitted.

“ _Very_ ,” Michael agreed still petting her while Anna held her.

Anna looked at Michael curiously. “Do you want a cat?”

Michael shrugged. “One day. I just don’t feel like I can right now. Too many other responsibilities.”

“Cats take, like, minimal effort,” Gob said. “Unless you get one with long hair that you have to groom daily.” Gob took Staccato back and said, “She’s just a baby and she already can take care of herself very well.” He looked back down at her and cooed, “Can’t you? Yes, you can.”

“Well, maybe one day. When I live in a real house or apartment again,” Michael said. He looked up at Gob and asked, “What made you finally get one?”

“I don’t know. I’m here for a while now, so I don’t have to worry about moving. I can afford one. Seemed like the right time.” He left out the pathetic part that he liked the idea of being able to come back to a house that wasn’t completely empty.

Staccato meowed again, a little louder that time, her meow sounding close to a baby’s cry. “I love that she does that. It’s like she’s trying to sing along when I play. She’s already talked up a whole storm, too; it’s great.”

Both Lindsay and Anna raised an eyebrow at that. “…Do you have… _conversations_ with Staccato?” Lindsay asked cautiously.

Gob gave her a confused look. “…She’s a _cat_. We can’t really have conversations?”

“Just checking.”

Anna looked at Lindsay who nodded at her, her signal to do what they had discussed. Keeping her voice casual, Anna said, “By the way. There’s this new guy at work…”

“Yeah?” Gob asked, not even aware she was looking at him.

“Handsome, successful, funny, _single_ …” Michael looked at her and she rolled her eyes and said, “And _gay_.”

“Oh,” Michael said. He looked at Gob and then back at Anna, finally connecting the dots. “ _Ohhh!_ Got it.”

"Good job, Einstein,” Lindsay muttered under her breath.

“Anyways, Gob, I was thinking maybe you could meet him sometime?” Anna suggested. “Get to know him a little? I think you’d like him.”

Gob snorted. “I’m not doing some blind date.”

“Why not? You’re single and it’s time to move on, don’t you think?”

Gob was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. He smiled and called out, “Come in! It’s open!”

Michael said, “You should really lock it, Gob; this isn’t a great part of town.”

As the door opened, Gob scoffed. “I lock it at night and when I’m gone and that’s enough. Just because my pot dealer lives nearby doesn’t mean it’s sketchy.”

Just then, Tony walked in from the main entrance. “Hey! You made it!” Gob said brightly.

“And that’s why he’s not interested in a blind date,” Lindsay muttered to Anna. Anna nodded in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you made it sound important,” Tony said. When he spotted Staccato, he broke into a wide smile. “You got a cat?”

“Yeah! Wanna meet her?”

Tony eagerly went over to Gob’s side and lightly scratched near her ears. Staccato purred and Tony let out a small _aw_. “What’s her name?”

“Staccato. Staccato Bluth, I guess, technically,” Gob said.

“What a cute little Bluth baby,” Tony said, taking her from Gob’s arms.

“She _is_ the baby of the Bluth family, isn’t she?” Gob said. “Until I get another kitten, I guess.”

Lindsay teased, “Or whenever Anna decides to add to our family.”

Anna protested, “It’s only been a few months; can you wait just a _little_ bit longer on that? Like, at least until marriage is on the table?”

“No one in the family is good at waiting until marriage to have kids,” Gob pointed out.

“I managed just fine,” Lindsay said.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to sleep with Tobias, either.” Lindsay hit Gob on the arm for that one and Gob hit her back as they started to argue.

Michael ignored the sibling squabbling and quietly asked Anna, “Do you want kids?”

“At least one,” Anna said. Michael smiled happily and took her hand, leaving the subject there.

“I always wanted a cat,” Tony said loudly in order to stop the fight. “A black and white cat. I’d name him Mr. Mistoffelees,” he said with a grin. The Bluths looked at him blankly, but Anna raised an eyebrow.

“…Like the character from _Cats_?” Anna asked. “[The little one that does magic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZQ_RgpO2T8)?”

Tony faltered. “Well…yeah. I liked the show as a kid. And he was my favorite.” Gob snickered and Tony lightly hit his arm. “Shut up! It was the first Broadway show I saw!”

“Wouldn’t you have been a teenager when it came out?” Michael asked.

“We couldn’t afford tickets to anything until then,” Tony said. “It was one of the first live musical events I ever saw, so shut up.”

“It’s a cute name for a cat at least,” Gob admitted. “Why don’t you get one?”

Tony frowned. “Well…Sally’s allergic.” He looked awkwardly at Michael for a short moment, but Michael just shrugged, if a bit awkward himself.

“Oh.” Gob nodded, trying to ignore the stabbing thought of how Sally seemed to be a long term situation in Tony’s mind.. “…Seth is, too. He still loves them, but we never could’ve had cats without him being doped up on allergy meds constantly.”

“Yeah…” Tony changed the subject, “Anyways, Staccato is a cute name. She’s very lucky to have you.”

“Right? Like, I could’ve named her something _awful_ , like Antonio Francesco Wunderlich or something,” Gob teased, grinning at Tony’s scowl.

“Shut up, _George Oscar Bluth II_ ,” Tony said right back.

“Shut up _both_ of you,” Anna said. “None of you guys can complain about your names.”

“Why? Do you have some weird and overly long name, too?” Tony asked.

“Our little Gigi _does_ , in fact,” Gob teased.

Anna rolled her eyes. “I _do_ have an overly long name, yes, and Georgiana is _weird_ , but, whenever I feel bad about my name, I remember that it _could_ be worse; I _could_ have my brother’s name.”

Michael looked at her. “Griffin isn’t that bad of a name.”

“It’s not, no, but his middle name?” She rolled her eyes. “My parents liked to name us after subjects they were studying or books they were reading at the time. Like, I’m named after the duchess Georgiana and, well, my sister goes by Gwen, but that’s short for Guinevere—you know, Arthurian Guinevere. And my mom’s a classics teacher and named her only son…” Anna took a deep breath and said, “ _Oedipus_.”

“…You’re kidding,” Michael said.

“I wish I was, but I’m not,” she said shaking her head. “It’s on his birth certificate and everything. Named after a literal motherfucker: Griffin Oedipus Mitchell.”

“Gem,” Gob said suddenly. They turned to him and he said, “His initials? Griffin Oedipus Mitchell, G-E-M, right? It’s like the cartoon.”

“That was spelled with a ‘J’,” Lindsay said.

“And Oedipus is spelled with an ‘O’,” Michael said.

“What? That’s almost bad as the Bible Gob being spelled with a ‘J’.”

Anna’s eyes suddenly widened and she whispered, “Oh my _god_.” As everyone turned to look at her, she cleared her throat and quickly said, “I didn’t realize how late it was getting! Michael and I have reservations to make.”

Michael looked at his watch. It was still a little early, but he figured they should probably head out soon. “Yeah. You never know what traffic’s going to be like. Or parking.”

Lindsay also looked at the time and agreed. “Yeah, I need to get ready for my date. With _Tommy_.” She was smiling ear-to-ear at the idea as she looked at her older brother. “Thank you _so much_ for giving him my number.”

“You’re welcome,” Gob said.

“Oh, shit,” Tony said as he looked at the time. “Yeah, I _really_ need to run, sorry; Sally and I have plans, too.” He handed Gob Staccato and said, “I’ll have to come over soon to play with her. She’s _adorable_.”

“Of course,” Gob said, forcing on a smile. “I mean, she’s the only pussy _I_ ever want to play with, so I wouldn’t be surprised if other people felt the same.” Gob cleared his throat, hoping that didn’t sound as desperate as it felt. Tony laughed, at least, which made Gob smile a little. He told Tony, “Now get going before Sally kills you.”

Tony gave Staccato one last pet before running out the door, Gob watching him go sadly.

They were silent for a long while as Gob slowly looked back down at his cat. Finally, Lindsay quietly said, “Gob…”

“You guys should get going,” Gob said. No one moved and he sighed, “Go on your dates. Have fun.”

“Are you su—”

“I have Staccato to play with. And a top eligible bachelor ranking to take advantage of once the clubs open. I’m fine,” Gob insisted. While the three of them looked doubtful, they left a few moments later, Michael being sure to pet Staccato plenty of times before he left the door.

For a while, Gob just sat down and watched his kitten play with some toy mice he had bought. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to really get going out there. But as the sun finally set and the moon came out, Gob finally got off the couch, got re-dressed, and went out to a gay club.

Gob almost laughed when he got there and realized there was a theme that night, some sort of weird Western/Cowboy thing. Wasn't there some movie about gay cowboys or something that was super depressing? He didn't know; he couldn't remember the last time he saw a new movie in theaters. Well, besides the awful  _Star Wars_ prequels. Ugh. New movies were rarely any good.

Thankfully, they were giving out some free cowboy hats and he grabbed one when he got in. It was cheesy as fuck, but he could appreciate that. He could also appreciate how many guys went with the whole just a vest look, his eyes wandering over them as he made his way to the bar. The muscly types weren't his usual go-to, but maybe he needed to take the advice of the song blaring—it was so loud he could hear the lyrics through his earplugs—and [save a horse, ride a cowboy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qt0_oPPK6eA).

Actually, hopefully the cowboy would just fuck him instead of him having to do the riding part, but, whatever. Same difference. 

Gob grinned and ordered a whiskey to start out with, drinking it as he took a look around at what was being offered to him that night. Definitely a lot of options, and definitely a lot of young guys and definitely a lot of guys who looked nothing like Tony. That was a good thing and he knew that; he didn't want to be thinking of him during any of that. 

Well, not any more than he already thought about him during that. It was hard to get him off his mind unless Gob had a lot to drink first.

And that was exactly what Gob planned on doing. Gob chugged the rest of his whiskey and moved on to the better stuff: tequila. He slammed back shot after shot, wondering when the club was going to play that song that one dude sang about tequila. What was it called again? He finished his fourth shot and thought about it.

"D'you think they'll play that one song that dude sang about tequila?" Gob asked the bartender loudly over the music. "Not the one called 'Tequila', the one about the slutty cowboy who drinks tequila shots and wakes up next to cute, shirtless cowboys he doesn't recognize?"

"…'[Jose Cuervo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ubwr6_KNons)'?" 

Gob shrugged, "Don't mind if I do. I'll take another two." The bartender stared at him for a moment before getting to work on pouring him more shots. "Man, I hope they play that song. It's totally my theme song. Some dude downing shots, kissing all the cowboys? Totally my scene."

"I think that song's sung by a woman," the bartender yelled over the music. 

Gob snorted. "Yeah, a voice that deep? No way. That's  _totally_ a dude." He snorted again and said, "Besides, you don't even know the title! You're probably too young to know it, anyways; none of you young guys know the classics anymore."

For whatever reason, the bartender started to ignore Gob after that. Whatever, Gob had enough liquor in his system for the moment. It was time to go find someone for the main event of the night. He licked over his lips and started moving towards the center of the dance floor, moving his body to the beat and letting himself press against various men on the floor, the alcohol combining with the heat of all those bodies to make his head feel cloudy in the best way. Any thoughts of Tony or Sally or anything but the night had totally left his head.

Eventually Gob found himself dancing with just one guy. He was kinda young maybe, but really cute and really good with his hips and, hey, the cowboy hat kinda worked on him. That was about all Gob needed from a one-night-stand in all honesty. And, just like magic, Gob soon found himself in the backroom with said cute cowboy eagerly working on undoing his belt.

"God, I've always wanted a chance with a guy like you."

Gob smirked; he must have recognized him from one interview or another. "Yeah?"

"Totally," the guy said breathlessly. He finally got Gob's belt off and started to kiss him again. Gob was good with that; he wasn't really into talking for foreplay, anyways. Sometimes he left his earplugs in just so he wouldn't have to listen to some of the guys' attempts at dirty talk, since it was normally disappointing.

He remembered why that was when, while the guy grinded up against him, he moved his lips to groan something in Gob's ear.

Immediately, Gob's eyes widened and he pushed the guy back. The guy looked confused and moved towards him again, but Gob put his hands up to stop him, his eyes still wide and his heart pounding in his chest. After a moment, Gob shook his head, re-did his belt, and walked out of the backroom, gaining speed as he all but ran out of the club, his earplugs still in his pocket. 

* * *

“No, that’s still not right,” Gob said, frowning slightly.

“Are you sure? I swear I’m playing what’s on the page,” Maeby responded.

Gob raised his eyebrows. “Are you really going to question my knowledge of a _Liszt_ piece, Maeby?”

She slowly took a breath. “…You’re right. So, how is it supposed to go?”

Gob sat next to her on the bench. “What measure are we at, again?” Maeby pointed at it and Gob squinted at it. “Did you have to print it so small?”

Maeby looked confused. “It’s just the size IMSLP had available to print,” she said. At Gob’s look, she explained, “You know? The International Music Score Library Project? You can find a whole bunch of classical sheet music for free.”

Gob blinked; he’d never heard of that place. “So, like a music library, but not at a college?”

“Well, not a physical library. It’s a website.”

“Oh…” Gob was never really tech savvy—one of Anna's employees ran his website and he wasn’t even sure he had an email address—but that sounded pretty cool. “You can make a copy of mine next time, though. Anyways…”

Gob squinted again, moving in a bit closer to make sure he started on the right part. It took him a moment to actually get his eyes focused enough to actually read it. Once he got his fingers situated, he played the section from memory before turning back to Maeby, who was looking at the sheet music with a frown.

"But that isn’t what’s on there…” she looked over the section a few more times.

“Maybe that website notated something wrong,” Gob said, looking over the section as well.

“I guess that’s possible. I heard they might have a few mistakes to help avoid copyright stuff.”

After a few moments, Gob took the paper off the piano and brought it closer to his face. The print was _so small_ , what was up with that? But, after a bit of looking, he found what he was looking for.

“Yeah, they forgot to mark an accidental here and didn’t dot one of the eighth notes,” Gob said. He put the sheet music back on the piano and grabbed his pencil, intending to write both of those things in. However, once he looked back at the music, he lost where the spot was. He sighed and picked up the paper again, bringing it in closer and finding the spot again so he could write in the corrections.

Once he put the music back on the piano, he noticed his niece raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I was just wondering what you’d look like with glasses.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you might need them,” Maeby said. “At least reading ones.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gob said with a frown.

"Well, when was the last time you got your eyes checked?"

"I don't know, probably high school," Gob said. "Why get checked when you're doing fine?"

"I'm not sure you can call it 'fine' when you're squinting to read sheet music."

"Y-you printed it so small!" Gob insisted. Maeby just smirked and Gob glared. "I do  _not_ need glasses."

"Hey, it happens when you get old—"

"I am _not_ getting old!"

That outburst seemed to get Michael's attention. "Everything okay in here?" he asked with concern, Anna, of course, right behind him.

"Yeah, Uncle Gob's just having a midlife crisis—"

"I am  _not_ at my midlife!"

"—because he can't read this sheet music well and he needs glasses."

"It's a small print!" Gob insisted. He grabbed one of the sheets and handed it to Michael and Anna. "See? That's small!"

Michael and Anna looked at each other. "…Yeah," Anna said.

"It's a little small, yeah."

"See?" Gob said, standing up smugly. "I totally don't need glasses. I totally rocked my last eye test in, like, high school or whatever, anyways. I may not be good at math, but I know 20 out of 20 is a hundred percent. You can't do better than that."

Michael looked up at the ceiling to stop himself from correcting his brother, but Maeby said, "Some people get 20/15. Like me." She raised her eyebrows at Anna and Michael before looking back at Gob. "I'll go practice with those corrections you gave me, and maybe you'll look into some reading glasses, yeah? Especially with that new job you have coming up with all that reading?" She clapped him on the shoulder before leaving the living room.

"What job did she mean?" Michael asked.

"Nothing," Anna said. Michael looked ready to ask again, but apparently decided against it.

Gob crossed his arms. "…I don't need glasses."

Anna and Michael looked at each other for a moment. "Well…" Anna started. "Maybe it's not the worst idea to look into reading glasses. I even use them sometimes. Like when I'm reading the fine print for contracts."

"Yeah, but you do that reading for me, so why would I need them?"

Anna looked to Michael. After a moment, Michael said, "…True. But, well…you do more reading than most, so it would make sense if your eyes were a little strained and might need some more help, right?"

"Right," Anna agreed.

Gob looked between the two of them suspiciously. Finally, he said, "…Maybe I can look into it, then. My eyes  _do_ read a  _lot_ of sheet music."

"Exactly. That Schubert you're working on has a lot of notes. And if you want to do  _Pierrot Lunaire_ , you need to be able to see every bit of detail," Anna said, Michael nodding in agreement.

Just then, Lindsay walked in and, wanting more back-up, Gob held up the sheet music and asked Lindsay, "This is small, right?"

Lindsay frowned and took the music from Gob's hand. "Looks normal to me." Michael nudged his twin and she yelped. "Ow! What was that for?"

Gob threw the paper down on the piano's music stand. "I do  _not_ need glasses! I am  _not_ old enough to need them!"

"No one's saying you're old," Michael insisted. "We're just saying you could use some help with…seeing."

"You think I'm old and you're trying to humor me!" Gob said. "God, you and Maeby and that fucking  _asshole_ in the club thinking he can call me—" Gob cut himself off, his jaw tensing at the thought.

"Did someone call you…one of those words?" Michael asked. 

Gob shook his head. "No. Something worse." 

"Worse than a slur?"

" _Much_ worse," Gob insisted. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms even tighter. "…This guy was going on about how he always wanted to be with a guy like me. Which, duh, who wouldn't? I'm, like, everyone's type." He winked at Anna at that and she somehow managed not to roll her eyes. "Anyways, we were getting down to business—"

Michael held up a hand and asked, "How much detail are we going to get of this 'business'?"

"Don't be homophobic,  _Michael_ ; that was as far as I was going," Gob said. " _Anyways_ , we were just getting going when he…he…"

"He  _what_?"

Gob had a pained look on his face. "…He called me  _daddy_." Gob shuddered at the memory and the whole idea before collapsing onto the couch.

Michael looked between his sister and his girlfriend. " _Yeaaaaah_ , I'm tagging out on this one," Michael said, leaving before either woman could stop him. 

"I am  _not_ a daddy," Gob continued on. "I am  _not_ old enough to be one."

Lindsay and Anna looked at each other before Lindsay pointed out, "You  _do_ have a kid, though."

"But it's not the same thing," Gob said. "And, okay, that guy clearly had some daddy issues that I'm  _not_  taking part in. Like,  _hello_ , go see some therapist, don't fuck some guy who you apparently think looks like your dad but much younger." 

Anna frowned. "Well, I'm glad you haven't developed some sort of daddy kink yourself given your own issues—"

"Yeah, trust me, I'm not interested in getting fucked by my father,  _thanks_."

" _Yeahhh_ , I'm _also_ tagging out of this one," Lindsay said, quickly leaving the living room.

"Amateurs," Anna said with a roll of her eyes. She looked back at Gob. "Don't listen to what some random twink at a club says, okay? You're not old, you're not turning to the 'daddy' type, and maybe  _he_ also needs glasses if he thinks that you are."

"…You're not just saying that as my agent?"

"I would never lie to you about that. I was the one who told you to get into shape, wasn't I?" Anna asked. "And now you're looking hotter than ever."

"Hey, you're dating my brother and I don't swing that way—"

Anna laughed and lightly pushed him. "Shut up." Gob laughed a little himself and drew a pillow to his chest. "You really  _are_ looking good. And some guys just get finer with age, and that includes you." Gob frowned again and Anna said, "Kinda like Harrison Ford, right?"

…Okay, Gob could live with that comparison. But, then again, "Did he wear glasses?"

"I don't know, but he'd look hot in them, don't you think?" Anna said with raised eyebrows.

Gob didn't want to, but he found himself smiling. "…Yeah, he would." He nudged her lightly and said, "I told you that you'd like Han, right?"

"Yeah, you did. But I might be more of a Luke girl myself."

"You're just saying that because Michael was always Luke when we dressed up as them for Halloween."

Anna shrugged with a smile, "Maybe."

"You guys are gross."

"I know. You've told me. Many times." She smiled and said, "Anyways, like Harrison Ford, you will look great in glasses, too. If you need them."

"You promise?"

Anna held out her pinkie and let Gob wrap his around it. "Promise." They smiled at each other until Gob unwrapped their pinkies. Anna leaned forward to clap a hand on his knee and said, "Now, if you ever bring up the word 'daddy' in a sexual situation ever again, I  _will_ drop you as a client _and_ a friend."

"Trust me; I nearly threw up at the idea myself."

* * *

With everything going on that summer and fall, Gob’s birthday sort of fell by the wayside. No one forgot about it, but they were all too busy to celebrate in style. But finally October came and they found time to throw a party. A lot like the year before, his siblings rented out a club for the night. They didn’t make it ‘80s themed, but they encouraged everyone to come in costume to celebrate Halloween along with Gob’s birthday. It was actually pretty cool seeing the various different costumes people came up with, even if his siblings hadn’t agreed to do Queen with him.

Whatever, it would’ve been cool, even if they only did it once and it was years and years ago. It definitely would’ve been better than seeing his sister sporting Sandy’s costume from the end of _Grease_ with Tommy as her Danny Zuko. Maybe it was just his brotherly instincts coming back in strong from seeing her with her high school boyfriend, he didn’t know, but seeing her in skin-tight leather definitely wasn't fun.

At least he had fun seeing that Anna managed to convince Michael to actually dress up. Michael had always loved the candy part of Halloween—he had a sweet tooth that always surprised people—but he had never been into the costume part. It was why Gob had been surprised he had put in any effort at his birthday party the year before. But, regardless, he showed up, much to Gob and Lindsay’s pleasure, as Peter Pan to Anna’s Tinkerbell.

“That costume really _has_ lasted a long time, huh?” Lindsay asked as she looked over Anna’s old dance costume.

“I’ve done some repairs,” she admitted as she adjusted her layered skirt, “but it’s really stood up against the test of time.” She extended a foot on the floor, looking at her pointe shoes she had changed into once she got inside with a smile. “I’m excited to break these in.”

“Wasn’t hitting them on the floor and walls and stuff breaking them in?” Michael asked.

“It was a start.”

“It’s too bad _you_ can’t fit into your old costume anymore,” Gob teased Michael. Gob had a feeling Michael actually _would_ be a lot more comfortable in the lawyer version of the outfit, but at least Anna hadn’t put him in tights or anything _too_ extra. His brother just rolled his eyes, soon groaning as Gob added, “You should’ve gotten Buster to be Captain Hook.”

“Weren’t you going to be Freddie Mercury?” Michael asked, trying to change the subject.

Gob shrugged and looked down at his costume. “Showing Anna _Star Wars_ made me remember how much I loved dressing as Han Solo. And, besides, Freddie works best when you have someone else to be a member of Queen or something. Not really a great solo costume, honestly.” His face lit up as he joked, “But we all know that Han works as a _Solo_.”

Gob laughed at his _extremely_ witty joke. Tommy laughed as well (and not completely out of politeness or pity), but Anna dryly said, “You’re lucky it’s your birthday party or I’d seriously consider insulting you after that.”

"I’m pretty sure you just did that,” Michael pointed out.

Lindsay looked over Gob’s shoulder, an eyebrow raising in the process. “Is Tony—”

Gob didn’t even hear the rest of the question, since his head whipped around as soon as she said his name. He quickly found him and when Tony saw him, Gob waved him over excitedly.

It took him a few seconds to realize Sally was holding his hand.

“We should probably leave,” Michael suggested to Anna.

Anna pursed her lips for a moment and shook her head. “I want to greet my newest client, even if he’s dating your ex.”

“This is gonna be awkward,” Lindsay muttered under her breath. Tommy nodded, since, even as new to the drama as he was, he could tell this was a lot.

Gob beamed as Tony came over with a wrapped present in hand. “Gob! Happy belated birthday!” Tony greeted, his arms open to offer him a hug that Gob immediately reciprocated. He reminded himself to keep it cool and broke it off as soon as Tony started to pull away, even though he wanted to keep holding him for much, much longer. “Is there a presents table or something?” Tony asked once they pulled away.

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, most of us got him presents on his _actual_ birthday,” Michael said, maybe just the slightest edge to his voice. He _maybe_ wasn’t Tony’s biggest fan with how he was stringing Gob along. But that was another story for another time.

Tony either didn’t notice the edge to Michael’s voice or just ignored it. “That makes sense. I’m sorry, man, I wanted to give this to you sooner, but it took a long time to hunt this down,” Tony said, handing the package to Gob.

“Thanks, man. You really didn’t have to do this.” Gob couldn’t help but smile as he looked at the present. Tony hunted down something for _him_? It made his heart feel funny.

Of course, it sank seconds later as Sally, her sweet smile on her face, that smile Gob thought looked way too fake, greeted him. “Hey, Gob. Happy belated birthday!”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He finally looked at their costumes and raised his eyebrows. “Ferris Bueller and Sloane? Interesting choice.”

“It’s my favorite movie,” Sally said.

Tony shrugged at Gob with a slightly sheepish smile before moving on to greet Lindsay, who introduced him to Tommy.

Sally looked behind Gob’s shoulder and her fake smile seemed to somehow become even _faker_ as her eyes landed on Michael. “Hi, Michael. Nice costume.”

“Th-thanks,” he said awkwardly. He gestured to Anna and said, “This is Anna. My girlfriend.” Gob moved slightly out of the way so they could see each other better—and so _he_ could watch any drama that happened with Sally meeting Anna.

“Oh, I couldn’t really see you behind Gob,” Sally said. Gob honestly didn’t know if that was meant to be a dig or if it was the truth. Maybe both. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Anna replied, shaking her hand.

“So, Peter Pan and Tinkerbell? I take it you’ve heard about Michael’s starring turn in our school’s production?”

“I have, yes,” Anna replied. “And I found it cute since I played Tinkerbell in a ballet production when I was in high school.” She smiled up at Michael and, apparently feeling up to showing off, stood up completely _en pointe_ to kiss Michael on the cheek, making Michael smile as well.

“That’s _super_ cute.” Again, Gob didn’t know if Sally was being genuine or not.

Tony finally moved on from talking to Lindsay and Tommy and turned to Anna and Michael. “Hey, Michael,” Tony said, looking a bit awkward because, you know, the whole dating his ex thing. He turned to Anna and said, “And hello to you, Agent Anna.”

Anna smiled at him. “I love when my clients call me that.” Sally raised her eyebrows in shock, so Anna explained, “I’m Gob’s agent, and since Tony and Gob are going to be doing chamber music together, it only made sense for Tony to switch to me.”

“…Of course,” Sally said.

After a moment, Sally turned back to Gob. “Anyways, I’ve been wanting to tell you how brave I think you are. Being so upfront about your sexuality and all? I mean, I had my suspicions for a little while, so it was nice to know I was right.” Sally laughed lightly while Gob raised an eyebrow. What the fuck did _that_ mean? She continued, “I’m kidding! But, seriously, you’re _so brave_ for saying all of that and being so honest.”

“Thanks.”

“And, you know,” Sally said excitedly, “I have a friend who would _love_ to meet you. As in meet one of the most eligible bachelors in Newport Beach.”

Sally fucking Sitwell trying to get him a blind date? Could things get any fucking worse?

“Well, actually,” Sally laughed, “he’s more Tony’s friend, but I think you’d get along really well!” She took Tony’s hand and asked, “Don’t you agree, Tony?”

Tony looked between Gob and Sally for a few moments. Finally he nodded, avoiding eye contact with Gob. “I mean…yeah. Yeah, if you’re interested, I could totally…totally get you his information.”

 _Oh_. It _could_ get worse. _Much_ worse.

“He’s super cute, funny, _and_ a professional drummer—”

“No, thanks,” Gob said, interrupting Sally. “I, uh, don’t really date musicians. Ever.”

Tony looked a little confused, but before he could say anything, Sally said, “Well, let us know if you change your mind.”

Seconds later, a cheesy '80s song started to blast on the speakers. Gob groaned, but Lindsay eagerly took Tommy to the dance floor.

"They're playing our song," Anna teased, grinning up at Michael as Tiffany blared.

"What?" Gob asked as Michael agreed. Instead of answering, Anna took Michael to the dance floor. Gob was a little surprised to see how eager Michael actually looked to dance; that definitely wasn't something he ever got into before.

Apparently not wanting to be out done, Sally tugged Tony onto the dance floor as well. With one last look at Gob, Tony disappeared into the crowd and Gob was left all alone. Again.

* * *

Later that night, Gob was sitting at the bar, a scotch on the rocks in his hand, and looking at the wrapped present. He hadn’t opened it yet, but by the shape and size of it made it clear it was a record of some sort. Gob appreciated the old school gesture, especially given his wall of vinyls, but he couldn’t say he didn’t feel kind of old. You know, given his birthday, the new songs constantly playing on the radio, and the fact that finding vinyls was pretty impossible nowadays.

“Hey,” Tony said as he slid into the stool next to Gob. Thankfully, Sally was nowhere in sight. “You haven’t opened it yet?”

“Oh, yeah. I figured I should wait for you,” Gob replied. “You know, to see my reaction and everything.” At Tony’s encouragement, Gob tore open the wrapping paper and let out a laugh of disbelief. “Oh my god. I-I’ve been searching for this one for _years_ . You can barely find the _CD_ of _Barcelona_ anywhere, let alone the _vinyl._ How did you even find it?”

“eBay,” Tony said as Gob looked over the record in his hands. “It took a lot of work. And a _ton_ of help from Pip, honestly; I don’t really get computers.”

“God, _same_.”

“They’re so confusing. I tried putting up a site, but all these pop-up ads keeping showing up and I don’t know how to work it,” Tony said with a frown.

Gob nodded; he had actually been to Tony’s site and knew that was an issue. Rather than saying that, he said, “Thanks. This is one of the few things missing from my wall.”

“Yeah, I noticed; that’s why I knew I had to find it,” Tony said. “I mean, for all I knew, you didn’t even _like_ it, but it seemed like your style.”

“I _love_ the album. Classical music and Freddie Mercury? How can you _not_?”

“I know, right?” Tony said. “I love crossovers like this.”

“Of course you do.”

“Well, yeah, typical, I know,” Tony said with a laugh. “That’s why I’ve always loved David Bowie.”

“Same! I love Bowie.”

“Same! I mean, no offense to Freddie, but Bowie’s my favorite rock guy.”

Gob nodded. “That’s fair. And, hey, ‘Under Pressure’ is one of the best songs of all time.”

“True.”

“And that’s why that Ice Cream guy is, like, my sworn enemy,” Gob said, his eyes narrowing.

“…You mean Vanilla Ice?”

“Yeah, him. I always hate when I think ‘Under Pressure’ is about to play and then it’s ‘Ice, Ice Baby’. It’s the biggest let down.”

“Same!” Tony said.

“Right? It’s so wrong! But, _god_ , my niece and nephew _love_ that song. I don’t get it.”

“Well, they’re children. They don’t know any better.”

Gob nodded. “I guess they don’t understand the classics. No one does anymore.”

Tony agreed and ordered a drink. After a small silence, Tony took a sip of his drink and asked, “So, what you said to Sally earlier?” He cleared his throat and continued, “I mean, you could’ve just told her you didn’t want a blind date. Like, I get it, I’m not really a fan of them, either. But, I mean…you date musicians.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“But what about Seth?”

Gob chuckled. “Seth's why I _don’t_ date musicians. Not anymore.”

“…Oh.” Tony cleared his throat again. “I guess competing egos and all of that wouldn’t…it doesn’t make for a good relationship.”

“Yeah,” Gob admitted. “That’s part of it. I mean, I _tried_ after him with a few other guys, but the competition was a big thing. But that’s not the only reason.”

Tony tilted his head. “What’s the other reason?”

“…Our break-up was mutual, you know. Good and healthy, I guess, and definitely necessary. But…we had played together. Made music together. _Talked_ about music. Learned music in the same environment. So much of our relationship was built on music. So, when it ended…” Gob looked down at his drink and shrugged. “I felt like I couldn’t play for the longest time. Like, I could still play, but nothing felt right. Nothing _sounded_ right, even if it was, you know? It was, like, part of me was missing or something.”

After a moment, Tony nodded. Though it felt like such a serious topic for a birthday party in a rented out club where some Britney Spears song was blasting in the background, Tony said, “Well, isn’t that what all relationships feel like in the end? Like you gave part of yourself a way or something? I think giving part of yourself is just part of really, you know, loving someone, so it makes sense if you feel kinda incomplete afterwards. Right? And it’s not like you never got your musicianship back.”

Gob shrugged sadly. “I guess. But, I don’t know. Without music, I don’t really know who I am. It’s been the one constant in my life. I just couldn’t handle losing it for so long, and I don’t wanna risk losing it again.” He took a long sip of his drink after that. That whole thing was half of why he was mad at himself for even developing those stupid feelings for Tony. Falling for a straight musician broke the only two rules he had when it came to guys. Stupid Tony Wonder.

“Hey, I need to put this in my car before I lose it,” Gob said, his voice and energy back to normal as he looked at the record again. He still couldn’t believe he had it or that Tony had managed to even find it. “Seriously, thanks, man.”

“Of course,” Tony said, surprised by the change in tone. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I _love_ it,” Gob said. His breath stuttered for a moment as he said that word, but he soon put on a smile again and gave him a hug in thanks before running out to his car to carefully store it away.

When he got back inside, Tony had left the bar area. Gob saw him dancing with Sally and scowled, ordering a shot of tequila. Or two.

Okay, he was actually on his fourth when he heard an all too familiar sound.

_"[Caaaaaaaan—](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kijpcUv-b8M)” _

“Fuck,” Gob swore under his breath, his head collapsing in his hands

_“—anybody…find me…somebody to love?”_

As the piano started, Gob closed his eyes, his jaw tensing. He loved this song, he really did. But he loved it in the privacy of his own home or in his car or anywhere that wasn’t in public at what was supposed to be a fucking _birthday_ party.

 _His_ birthday party. His thirty-ninth. One year from forty. One year from _really_ old. One year closer to being more and more irrelevant. One year further into “daddy” territory. One year from an age he honestly never expected to live to.

_"At the end of the day I take home my hard-earned pay all on my own..."_

He turned back around to look at his friends and family who had come out for the night. So many of his friends were dating now, coupling up, finding somebody to love. The woman he knocked up in _high school_ was dating somebody and dancing with him. His sister, who had just gotten a freaking _divorce_ had somebody—a really _cute_ somebody who had his arm wrapped around her. His brother, who had already had somebody, somebody who was his _soulmate_ , had somebody else already—a somebody _Gob_ had found him, a somebody who somehow also managed to be a perfect match for him. How was it fair that _Michael_ had a second chance at a somebody? Hell, how was it fair that _Anna_ had a second chance at having a somebody after already being married as well?

How was it fair that Lindsay, Sally, Michael, and Anna, all of these people with somebodies, all of them were  _younger_  than him?

How was it fair that he finally found someone who matched him in every way, who understood him in a way no one else ever had, only for him to be off with some _girl_?

How was it fair that he was turning into the fucking Marschallin when he couldn’t even sing?

_“I just gotta get out of this prison cell, someday I’m gonna be free, Lord!”_

The background of the music dropped out and the vocal line, low and singular, started, _“Find me somebody to love…”_

The harmonies kept building as more voices joined in. Well, Gob knew they were really just Freddie and Brian and Roger’s voices layered to sound like a choir, but still. It was a beautiful moment. One of the best moments in one of the best songs in Gob’s possibly very biased opinion. It was a moment he normally would headbang to and just appreciate musically, since it was beautiful and intense and _amazing_.

That time, though, Gob felt suffocated as the harmonies built up, as he watched all these people who had somebody, as he realized he was growing old and alone. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like the air was getting too thick as the voices grew in size.

_" Somebody—somebody! Somebody—somebody! Somebody find me, somebody find me somebody to love! Can anybody find me…”_

As Freddie built up to the high note, Gob made a choking sound and, breaking even more rules he had, he ran out of his own party while it was still going strong _and_ left during the middle of a Queen song.

When he got home, he sat in his car in the driveway for a long time, his breath still fast and his heart still pounding. Once his breath slowed down and the feeling of panic more or less left his system, Gob’s cell phone started ringing. He picked it up after a moment and answered without looking at the caller ID, "Hello?"

“Gob?” Michael said, the sound of the party still going on in the background. “Gob, where are you? We’ve been looking for you—”

“Can I talk to Anna?” Gob asked quietly.

“What? Gob, I—”

“I need to talk to Anna.” He pressed the heel of his free hand to one of his eyes as he waited for Anna to get on the phone.

“Gob?”

“Hey, Anna? That guy from your office?” Gob swallowed roughly, “Is he…is he still cute and single?”

* * *

  **Most Eligible Bachelor, Music: George Bluth II**

_“Call me Gob,” is the first thing pianist George Bluth II says once the interview starts. Gob, pronounced like the biblical figure “Job”, is from his initials, he explains (“George Oscar Bluth”, for those unaware). It’s also the name he’s been called since childhood._

_“I don’t think ‘George’ really fits me outside of piano things. It’s professional, but I’ve always been Gob to everyone else,” he says. “Family, friends, everyone.”_

_One would assume that includes boyfriends as well, something the pianist is undoubtedly familiar with. He admits to having “a couple” of relationships since his first time on our list, but none of his boyfriends have been able to stick in the years since._

_“I don’t mind being single, but I don’t mind dating people, either,” Bluth says with a simple shrug. “I just haven’t found someone I’ve connected with romantically speaking and that’s fine. Besides, it’s been a busy couple of years.”_

_That’s true. Professionally speaking, Bluth has been traveling to various cities across the world for performances, including performances for large crowds with big-name symphonies such as the San Francisco Symphony and the New York Philharmonic. The Los Angeles Philharmonic has nearly become a second home to him since his debut performance of Liszt’s first piano concerto, and he recently did a small recital series in Europe._

_There’s also a large chance you’ll recognize his voice. His deep, raspy, and (dare we say?) sultry voice can be heard in various movie trailers. Most notable is his work in the_ Gangy _trailers, though his regular speaking voice is not quite as dark or dramatic._

 _In addition to his solo performances, Bluth has also maintained a working partnership with his former Newport Orchestra colleague, violinist Tony Wonder. The two have performed and recorded two chamber works together with other instrumentalists: Schubert’s Piano Quintet in A major (nicknamed, as Bluth tells us,_ Forellenquintett (Trout Quintet) _due to the quote of Schubert’s art song “Die Forelle” in the fourth movement) and Schoenberg’s_ Pierrot Lunaire _. This summer, the men are joining forces with cellist Caitlyn Moss and clarinetist Jill Steinberg to perform Olivier Messiaen’s_ Quartuor pour la fin du temps (Quartet for the End of Time) _._

_“It’s one of the few chamber pieces I’ve been longing to play,” he says excitedly. “It’s got such a cool history. It’s a weird arrangement of instruments since Messiaen wrote it when he was in a prisoner-of-war camp in World War II. He was imprisoned with a cellist, clarinetist, and violinist and wrote them a trio which developed into a quartet with him at piano. Their prison guard actually got them instruments so they could premiere it there once he finished it.”_

_There’s no need to worry if classical music isn’t your speed; this bachelor also has great knowledge and adoration for all kinds of music. He lists Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel as great influences, and even admits to liking some of the more modern music he’s heard. However, his favorite non-classical music is undoubtedly the music of Queen._

_I have a whole wall of records in my house, and about 90% of it is Queen. Freddie Mercury was one of my biggest influences growing up,” Bluth states. His loyalty apparently cannot be swayed, as he admits, “I even broke up with a boyfriend a few years ago partially for not liking Queen. There were other factors, but that really pushed it over.”_

_For anyone else interested in this eligible bachelor, it should be noted that his personal life has been just as busy as he professional over the last few years, and we don’t just mean dating. His father, George Bluth, Sr., after a long and grueling multi-year trial for charges including treason, was ruled as “not guilty” and was acquitted of all other charges._

_When asked about his father, Bluth says, “He’s still guilty of punching me in the face, so I still don’t talk to him.” He also admits that his coming out article in_ Poco Magazine _nearly two years ago made matters even more tense between him and his father, but he has more or less cut the man from his life. “I don’t see him or anything. It’s pretty easy to avoid him. He’s definitely not involved in the company anymore; Michael [Bluth, his younger brother] and my mom [Lucille Bluth] are still running things, which is why it’s been doing much better.”_

 _[_ LA Pride _would like to note that Michael Bluth would be on this list if he wasn’t both coupled and straight.)_

“Did they _really_ need to include Michael?” Gob whined, interrupting Anna’s reading of the online article.

“What? They have good taste,” Anna said, making Michael grin.

“You guys are still so gross,” Gob muttered. Lindsay, once again single, agreed with Gob. “Come on, keep reading.”

"You could be the one reading it if you brought your reading glasses." Gob rolled his eyes and Anna smirked but continued reading.

_Possible family issues aside, George “Gob” Bluth II is still our number one pick for our Most Eligible Bachelor in the musician category. Despite his age (which he refuses to admit anyways), Bluth is in great shape, has a full head of hair (oddly fuller than past photos have shown), and has a charming smile that matches his rather charming personality. It’s odd that he’s still single, but lucky for any man looking for a man to woo them with some Beethoven or Queen on the piano._

_Some quick facts with direct quotes from the bachelor himself:_  
  
**_Favorite Composer:_ ** Liszt, by a mile  
**_Favorite Movie:_ ** Dirty Dancing - Patrick Swayze’s hips were a revelation  
**_Favorite TV Show:_ ** Dynasty _, but I also love_ Frasier . I don’t really watch too much TV, though.  
**_When I’m not practicing, I’m:_ ** hanging out with friends, listening to music, or partying.  
**_Smoke?:_ ** Sometimes  
**_Drink?:_ ** _Whiskey or scotch on the rocks. And tequila shots. [We’ll take that as a yes.]  
_ **_Pets:_ ** _Three cats! Staccato was my first, a Siamese and Ragdoll mix. Then I got my Russian Blue, Rocky, short for the [Russian] composer Rachmaninoff. My most recent is my tabby named Elise, short for Fur Elise. [_ LA Pride _would like to note that he laughed very hard at his own pun.]_

Gob frowned. “That was a catty way to end that.” After a moment, he laughed yet again. His siblings and Anna groaned at the pun and Maeby even booed at it. “No one respects my sense of humor.” Except Tony. Tony probably would’ve laughed at that joke. He had laughed at Elise’s name, after all.

“Hmm, I don’t know if that was the cattiest remark, though. I think the cattier remark was the one about the hair,” Lindsay said.

Maeby agreed. “But you _do_ mysteriously have more hair now. _Did_ you get hair plugs?”

Gob, after years of interviews, knew how to answer questions like that. He drew himself up tall and said, “No comment.”

“That’s my star,” Anna said with a nod of approval. She had worked with him a lot to make sure he could handle any and all questions thrown his way. “And that was a _great_ interview.”

“It was,” Michael agreed. “And thanks for saying we’re running the company well.” Gob always said that, but he appreciated it all the same.

“No problem,” Gob shrugged. “I don’t really know for sure, but the numbers are so much higher with you than they were with dad.”

Michael looked at the time and turned to Maeby and George Michael. “Okay, you two, get to your homework.”

George Michael opened his mouth to protest it, but Maeby beat him to it. “It's the last month of our senior year, Uncle Michael; we don’t need to be told when to do homework.”

“Hey, if you want to keep your job, you have to keep up that GPA _and_ graduate,” Lindsay said, surprisingly stern. After she caught wind of Maeby’s job the previous year, she was proud, but also insisted her daughter maintain a decent GPA if she wanted to keep working in the industry. Well, Michael had insisted and Lindsay eventually agreed. Gob was just thankful that she wasn’t mad at him or Anna for not telling her about the job in the first place.

Maeby looked ready to protest again, but she ended up sighing dramatically and standing up. George Michael opened his mouth again, but Michael said, “I know you already got your college acceptances, but you need to make sure you graduate.”

“…Right,” George Michael said with a sigh. He stood up and walked with his cousin up to their room. While he remained silent, Maeby still grumbled on the way up that she made more money than any of them, so she didn’t see the point of having to get a high school degree. While Gob understood (and maybe kinda sorta agreed), he liked seeing Lindsay and Maeby acting more like mother and daughter. It was nice.

“Great article, right?” Gob said, smiling to himself. “I mean, I wish I didn’t have to be a bachelor yet again, but…”

“I know,” Lindsay said sadly, putting a hand on his knee. “At least you get to be on a fancy list, though. When will there be a Most Eligible Bachelorettes of Southern California for me to be on?”

“I think _LA Pride_ does one for lesbians, if you’re willing to switch teams,” Gob said. Lindsay snorted in response. “Just a suggestion.”

Lindsay sighed, “It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t approaching forty.” She shuddered at the idea.

“Yeah. Well, try being _over_ forty,” Gob muttered.

“But you’re a guy. It’s different for guys.”

“But I’m _gay_ . It’s different for gays. I’m in dangerous territory. I’ve had a few other people call me… _that word_. You know, the one I _hate?_ ” He shuddered much like Lindsay had. He stood up and said, “Well, I need to get home. The cats get crabby if I don’t feed them by ten.” He had gotten so used to having to leave early for his cats he didn’t even feel pathetic for saying that anymore. “Besides, early practice tomorrow for the quartet. And I have a baking lesson.”

“ _Again_?”

Gob shrugged. “I’m a slow learner, but I still deserve the right to learn how to make the best oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“I think you can learn from people who aren’t Tony,” Michael said.

Gob raised an eyebrow at him. “Who should I learn from, then? The guy who hid our homophobic father in his attic and got him out of jail? Or should I go to the actual homophobic father?”

Michael, like he always did when Gob brought it up, lowered his head. And, as usual, Gob left without another word. But once the door closed, Michael lifted his head and shook it. “I _hate_ when he does that,” Michael muttered.

* * *

Honestly, it wasn’t fair how good Tony was at cooking. Or, well, at least at baking. Tony insisted there was a difference and that his regular cooking skills were average at best, but baking? Tony was _amazing_ at it. And it was unfair that he was that good because, one, Gob was working on keeping his hot bod rockin’ for all the guys out there to appreciate and it was hard when your best friend (of the local variety, at least) liked to tempt you with treats and, two, Tony was already so good at violin. Like, how was it fair that he got yet another talent?

“I don’t get how you’re so good at this,” Gob said as Tony attempted yet again to teach Gob the secret to making the best oatmeal raisin cookies. He ended up saying it every time because, really, Tony was just so _amazing_ at it. Half the time he just eyeballed how much he needed of every ingredient and only used measuring cups to try to help Gob out.

Not that Gob necessarily paid attention to what Tony was doing when he could just, you know, watch him.

“It’s only because I grew up doing this,” Tony said. “If you had grown up baking, you’d be great at it, too, I’m sure.”       

Gob doubted that, seeing as he couldn’t even crack an egg correctly half the time. And the whole thing where Gob literally only had abilities when it came to music. And maybe charming people; about the only thing his dad ever praised him for was that he was good at seducing women, after all.

Still, he only replied with a shrug. “Maybe.”

Once they finished making the dough, Tony tested Gob by asking, “What do we do next?”

“Uh…pre-heat the oven, right?”

“Right. And?”

Gob thought about it. “…Chill the cookie dough?”

Tony smiled brightly and Gob smiled back. “See? I told you that you’d get the hang of this.” He lightly nudged Gob with his hip, making Gob’s smile grow even wider. He covered how big his smile was by busying himself with grabbing the plastic wrap and covering the bowl of dough. Once it was tight enough (in Tony’s opinion), Gob stuck it in the fridge and let Tony set a timer for half an hour.

Soon enough, Tony was settled on the couch with a drink and Gob made one for himself before opening the door to his bedroom so the cats could come out. It had become clear early into these baking lessons that Gob had to put them away in his room or else they’d try to eat the raisins and other ingredients that were poisonous to cats. And Tony also said it was super unsanitary to have them on the counter when they were cooking and blah blah blah, whatever.

Staccato ran out first and loudly meowed at Gob.

“Hello to you, too,” Gob said. She meowed again, indignant at having been locked away, but then he picked her up and, true to her part-Ragdoll nature, she went limp and let him carry her over to the sofa. He sat her down next to him and she purred happily as she made his way onto his lap.

“She holds such a grudge, doesn’t she?” Tony joked. Gob laughed and scratched behind her ears.

“Your best friend should be coming out soon,” Gob joked backed. Rocky, being a Russian Blue, wasn’t really fond of strangers or any people he didn’t know. He still hid away whenever any of Gob’s family came over, even Michael and Lindsay. But he had taken a liking to Tony which probably meant Tony was over too often. Or maybe just often enough. Whatever. The point was Tony had been over enough that Rocky had bonded easily with him.

“I hope so. I miss Rocky; he’s a cool cat,” Tony said.

They both turned when they heard the sound of a cat collar jingling from Gob’s room. However, it wasn’t Rachmaninoff but Elise. Upon seeing a toy mouse on the floor, the kitten started playing with it herself, launching herself at it and tossing it around.

“God, she’s cute,” Tony said with a laugh.

“I know,” Gob said, though his smile was slightly sad as he looked at her.

Tony recognized the tone in his friend’s voice and sighed. “Hey, don’t start thinking about him again.”

“I’m not!” Tony raised an eyebrow and Gob rolled his eyes. “Fine, I was. It's hard not to think about your ex when you're looking at the cat he got you."

"Fair enough," Tony said, though he sighed again. "Well, I  _am_ glad you kept her, even if she makes you think of him. She has the best name of them all. And she's adorable."

"It's why I could never get rid of her," Gob said. Who cared if Jimmy broke his heart?

"Jimmy was an asshole, anyways," Tony said.

And, well, maybe that was true from Tony's side of things. See, after over a year of trying to date guys and forget about Tony, Gob wasn't having much success. Between seeing Tony at rehearsals and seeing Tony when hanging out as friends and seeing Tony in fictional situations during some desperate nights alone in bed with just his hand to keep him company, Gob wasn't really moving on from him. He was kinda stuck. Every time he started to get close to a guy, he'd start to compare them to Tony and lose interest.

But then he met Jimmy. Jimmy was one of Eve's friends. He was cute, funny, smart, and, well, they just had chemistry and hit it off right away. And as luck would have it, Tony had a lot of gigs out of town over those first few months, some of them suspiciously last minute, though Anna claimed there was no foul play. Regardless, that relationship started to blossom the more Gob stayed away from Tony. They grew closer, talked about so many personal things, and Gob figured out that it really _was_ possible to be in love with two people at once. Especially when one of those people got you the cutest kitten as a birthday present, a sure sign that they'd be moving in together soon.

But then Tony and Gob rounded up some other musicians and a conductor to do  _Pierrot Lunaire_ for a Halloween-time concert. It was  _epic_ , [full on creepy Sprechstimme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gafF5sbnB0) and all. And Jimmy was smart, but it didn't take a genius to see how Gob was crazy for Tony. You know, not crazy like the character Pierrot, but definitely, like, head-over-heels. Jimmy was immediately rude to Tony and kept trying to confront Gob about the relationship until, finally, he said he was done wasting his time and left nothing but the kitten behind.

Gob merely shrugged at Tony's response. "Well, I guess the bright side is now I got to be on  _LA Pride's_ list yet again."

Tony frowned at Gob's obviously fake enthusiasm. "Hey, at least you get to be on a list like that," Tony said. "I certainly haven't gotten any of that kind of attention and Sally and I broke up _months_ ago."

Gob had to hide a smile yet again; he decided to do that by pretending to just be smiling at the cat in his lap. "It's just because it's about to be June, you know, Pride month? All the gays have to make their bachelor and bachelorette lists now."

"Yeah, but…" Tony trailed off and Gob looked at him curiously. "…You'd at least think  _Balboa Bay Window_ or whatever would've done another one by now and feature me."

"…You might be a bit too… _Kosher_  by their standards," Gob said. Tony snorted. "Besides, being featured as bachelor at this point in my life…"

"Don't go on about being old when I'm older than you," Tony warned. They had discussed that issue before. Many times.

"Fine, fine," Gob sighed.

Tony frowned. “Hey, don’t worry. You’ll find someone someday,” Tony said. “There’s no way a guy like you can stay single forever.” He smiled and shrugged slightly. “You’re too cute for that.” Gob’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest and his face seemed ready to split in half from the large grin that caused.

“I mean, yeah. You have a point.”

"You need to get set up with better guys, though; none of them have been up to my standards for you."

Gob scoffed, though he was still grinning widely. At least Tony was protective of him and thought he deserved the best regardless of his lack of interest in actually being with him. Because, you know, the whole straight thing. "I think you're just picky.

"Maybe you're just not picky enough."

"Are you calling me a slut?" Gob asked. "Because I only like being called that in the bedroom."

"Hot."

"I know."

Just then, Rocky popped up and settled his way onto Tony's lap, making Gob let out a small  _aw_. He was pretty sure Rocky loved Tony more than he loved  _him_. Hell, he probably loved Tony as much as Gob did.

Like father, like son.

"I can't believe no girl has swooped in on you yet. I mean, you're so good with pussies," Gob joked. He still found that joke  _hilarious_ , thank you very much.

Tony laughed a little as well. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat and said, “But, back to you, I was thinking that you should let me know if you change your mind on dating musicians or not. Because that…that widens the dating pool a lot.”

Gob shrugged and avoided eye contact with Tony as he scratched Staccato's ears. "…Well…maybe for the right musician, I'd consider it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, if the right guy was a musician and interested, then maybe," Gob said. It wasn't like he was in any risk of that guy actually existing.

There was a small silence as Tony looked at his friend, trying to think of what to say. Finally, he said, "…Gob, I—"

_Ding!_

"Time to make the cookies," Gob said, all thoughts of their conversation leaving his head at the thought of the oatmeal raisin cookies that were so close to being in his mouth. He gently moved Staccato off his lap and made his way to the kitchen. "You coming, Vivaldi?"

Tony snorted and moved Rocky off his own lap. "Yeah, I'm coming, Gobie—and don't forget to wash your hands first!" With that, Tony went into the kitchen, walking past Elise and her toy mouse on the way.

* * *

It was July and a week before their quartet performance when their cellist didn't show up to a group rehearsal. 

“This isn’t like Caitlyn,” Tony said as he paced in a circle in Gob’s living room. "It's been over thirty minutes and she's  _still_ not here?"

Jill nodded. “I’m honestly worried.”

“Me, too,” Gob said. “She’s a bitch, but she’s an on-time one.” At Jill’s look, he said, “What? Most female cellists are bitches. It’s nothing personal.” Jill rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight it.

After a few more minutes, Tony brought out his phone and went outside to call her while Jill started practicing her solo. Gob laid down on his piano bench with a sigh. He had some cool parts in the quartet, but he wish he had a big solo like Jill did…

A few minutes later, Tony came back inside and got off the phone with a tense look on his face.

“Well?” Gob asked. “Is Caitlyn coming?”

“No,” Tony said. “She’s been in a car accident.”

“What?” Gob and Jill asked at the same time.

“Is she okay?” Jill asked.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Just has a broken collarbone,” Tony said.

“Fuck,” Gob sighed. “That’s not gonna heal in two weeks, is it?”

“Nope,” Tony answered.

“ _Fuck_.”

“I know.”

Jill sighed. “So…I guess we’re cancelled?”

“Yeah,” Tony said helplessly. “Unless you guys know a cellist who knows the piece already and happens to be free. There’s no way someone can learn it in a week.”

They were all silent and lost for a moment. Then, Gob sat up with a smile. “I know someone…”

* * *

Two days later, Gob waited eagerly at the airport holding up a sign that said “Mary Austin” on it. After a whole bunch of people crowded out of the gate, Gob finally spotted a familiar head of dark curls with a cello on his back. The man looked around until he spotted Gob waving and walked over to him.

“Hey!” Gob greeted, excited to see him as always.

“Hey yourself, California,” Seth said, taking off his cello so they could properly hug in greeting.

“Thank you _so_ much for this,” Gob said as they headed over to baggage claim. “I’m so glad this happened over your break.”

“Yeah, yeah, well, thanks for thinking of me,” Seth said. “I love this piece and the timing’s perfect. It’s kismet.”

Gob’s brow furrowed in confusion. “…We haven’t kissed in years, though.”

Seth smiled. “I’ve really missed you, California.”

While Gob had volunteered space in the model home or the couch at his own place, Seth had decided on a hotel. That way there would also be room when his daughter and partner came down for the actual concerts. And, of course, it gave him some privacy and kept him away from the cats he was allergic to.

They _did_ go to the model home after they checked him in. Most of his family was coming over for dinner—and definitely drinks since, of course, Bluth family—and Gob was honestly bursting with excitement for them all to be together. Seth hadn’t seen Michael and Lindsay in years, not to mention how he hadn’t seen Maeby and George Michael since the two were toddlers. Plus, Seth was going to meet Steve, which was really, _really_ cool to him.

Once they got Seth situated at the hotel, they started the long drive to the model home. Seth asked, “Who all’s going to be there tonight? I know Michael and Lindsay and their kids.”

“Right. Buster might be coming, too,” Gob told Seth once they got to his place. “I’m not sure if he’ll actually make it down, but you'll meet him at the concerts if he doesn't make it. I know he wants to really meet you, now that he knows who you kinda were to me when you met forever ago.”

“I’d love to meet him again.”

Then there’s Anna, of course.”

“Oh, right, she’s dating Michael, right?”

“Yep. They’re getting ready to move in together _officially_ now. Like she hasn’t basically been living at the model home for two years,” Gob said, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’ve met her, right?”

“A few times. Briefly.”

“Cool. Steve’s coming, too. And Eve.”

Seth raised his eyebrows. “And does she know the timeline of our relationship in relation to the one you had with her?”

“Yeah,” Gob said with a shrug. “We’ve talked a lot about that stuff. We’re friends now.”

“Having a child will do that to you.”

“Right,” Gob laughed. “And that should be it.”

“No Tony tonight?”

Gob held back a sigh. “No. No Tony tonight.”

Thankfully, Seth didn’t say any more on the subject in that moment.

Soon enough, they got to the model home and Gob led Seth inside without knocking. “Hey! We’re here!” Gob called out before leading Seth straight to the living room, where Michael, Lindsay, and Anna were hanging out.

“Hey!” Seth greeted them all with a small wave.

Lindsay responded first, going over to hug him. “Seth! God, it’s been forever.”

“I know,” Seth said, “Way too long.” When they pulled apart, he gave her a look over as she did the same to him. “Looking good, Linds.”

“Thank you,” she said with a large grin. “You as well.”

“Settle down, Linds; he’s gay,” Gob joked, still making drinks at the little makeshift bar.

Lindsay rolled her eyes at him. “I was _hardly_ flirting, Gob.” She smiled at Seth again and said, “It’s really great to see you again, though. For real.”

“You, too.”

Next up came Michael. The two men hugged briefly, clapping each other on the back before they parted. “Good to see you, man,” Seth said.

“You, too,” Michael said.

Anna snuck up on them and smiled. “Hey, Seth,” she greeted. Not feeling like a close enough friend to offer him a hug, she held out her hand. As they shook, she said, “Thanks for filling in; I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

“Anna, it’s not a business meeting, remember?” Gob said.

She rolled her eyes much like Lindsay had. “I know. I just wanted to make sure he knew how much I appreciated him stepping in like that.” She looked back at Seth and said, “And it’s nice to see you.”

“You, too,” Seth said.

Gob came over and handed Seth the drink he made. Seth grinned, “Rum and coke?”

“I know what you like,” Gob said. “Even if it’s the world’s lamest drink.”

“It’s a _classic_ , shut up,” Seth replied.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to diss a drink when you drink your scotch on the rocks.”

“Shut up, _Michael_.”

“So, where are the kids?” Seth asked before the brothers could get into too big of a spat.

“Work,” Lindsay said. “They should be back soon.”

They all sat back down, Gob taking up the most room on the couch because of _course_ he did.

“I can’t wait to see them again,” Seth said with a smile. “And to meet Steve. Gob makes him sound really sweet.”

“He is,” Anna confirmed.

“Yeah, _super_ sweet. It’s hard to believe he’s related to Gob at all sometimes,” Lindsay teased. Gob kicked her in response and she hit his legs back.

Seth laughed a little and had a sip of his drink. “You still make some of the best mixed drinks of anyone I know,” he told Gob.

“I _did_ start out as a bartender at that one club in the Castro,” Gob said.

“Yeah, I know. Until the manager ‘discovered’ you and got you a job on stage,” Seth said with a small snort.

“You didn’t complain about the private performances I gave you,” Gob teased. Seth had been less than a fan of Gob working as a stripper, but, hey, it got him some awesome tips and the tearaway clothes were a lot of fun for both of them.

“I forgot how you have no problem saying this sort of stuff in front of your family,” Seth laughed. He had no problem joking about their sex life in front of others, but his own family was where he drew the line. Of course, he had to remember the Bluth family was very different from any other family he knew. They managed to somehow be super WASP-y while also being way too open with each other.

“Trust me; we wish he didn’t,” Michael said.

“No need to be homophobic, _Michael_ ,” Gob said, “I’ve had to hear plenty about your own sex life.” Michael sighed exasperatedly but still, after all those years, fell silent.

After a few minutes of small talk, Gob excused himself to go call in the pizza order. As soon as Gob was out of earshot, Seth sighed. “I kinda wanted your guys’ take on this,” Seth whispered. “I mainly took this job because I love the piece and I thought it’d be fun to perform with him again, but…don’t tell Gob this, but I almost wanted it to fall apart.” Seth quickly added, “Not because I want him to fail! I just don’t think him constantly performing with Tony is a good thing.”

The three adults all made noises of agreement. “God, believe me, we’ve _tried_ telling him that,” Lindsay said. “It’s not healthy.”

“It isn’t,” Seth agreed. “I’ve tried telling him, too. It’s not like he can never see him again, he just needs to take a break. _We_ even did that.”

“And I _swear_ Tony _has_ to know by now; Gob’s not subtle,” Lindsay said. Seth nodded; he hadn’t seen the two of them together, but he knew his best friend wasn’t good at hiding his emotions.

“I don’t know about that,” Anna said honestly. “Tony’s about as oblivious as Gob at times.”

“You _would_ say he’s innocent,” Lindsay muttered.

“Ex _cuse_ me?”

“Well, you have reasons to want them to keep performing together, don’t you? It doubles your commission when two clients perform at once, doesn’t it?” Lindsay pointed out.

Anna’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, it might make my job easier and make me more money, but I’m _not_ lying about Tony. I know him better than any of you since he _is_ my client,” she whispered sharply. "Besides, who do you think worked her _ass_ off to try to keep Tony away from Newport Beach when Gob seemed to actually have a chance to make a relationship  _work_?" Lindsay and Anna looked at each other for a while before Lindsay finally nodded and dropped her heated look. Anna dropped hers as well and shook her head. “I really don’t think he knows. And, honestly, I get why Michael thought he was gay, since he _does_ light up around Gob as much as Gob does around him. But you’d think he’d make a move by now if he was.”

Seth looked thoughtful at that. As Gob came back, Seth asked, “So, what are Tony and Jill like? I hope we all get along.”

“Oh, you will,” Gob said perkily.

“Yeah, Jill’s super talented and professional, but very sweet,” Anna said. “She’s _very_ easy to work with.”

“Yeah. And Tony’s just… _amazing_ ,” Gob said, a grin on his face that would’ve been cute if Tony felt the same way back.

Seth looked to the other three and asked, “How about an unbiased opinion?”

“He _is_ very talented,” Anna said. “A bit stubborn when it comes to musical decisions—”

“Well, he’s usually right,” Gob pointed out. After a moment, he relented, “Not _always_ , but usually.”

“ _Right_ ,” Anna said dryly.

“But, okay, personality-wise?” Lindsay started. “Imagine if Gob was, like, _in_ you—”

“Gob would never be _in_ me, but continue,” Seth said.

Gob pouted and muttered, “It happened a couple of times.” Seth pat his shoulder reassuringly before turning back to Lindsay.

“Gross,” Lindsay said, shaking her head. “Anyways, it’s Gob’s mind in y—” she cut herself off and corrected, “in a Jewish, violinist version of you, give or take a few inches.”

“Yeah, Gob _really_ has a type because of you,” Michael said.

“It’s not because of Seth. I was born this way,” Gob said with a snort. After a moment, he remembered to argue, “And I don’t have a type.”

Thankfully, before that line of thought could continue, the door opened, and George Michael and Maeby soon walked into the living room.

Seth’s eyes widened. “Wow,” he said, laughing slightly. He looked over at Gob and said, “There’s no way that’s really them, right?”

“You haven’t seen them for a while now."

“Yeah. God, I feel old…It was bad enough that Aria started pre-school, but…” Seth smiled and shook his head, turning back to George Michael and Maeby as he stood up. “Hey. There’s, like, no way you guys remember me, but—”

“Uncle Seth,” George Michael said suddenly. He had heard the name so many times in conversation and he had seen the pictures, but he suddenly remembered some very hazy memories of an apartment, a cello, and a sense of confusion when Uncle Seth hadn’t come down for Christmas with Uncle Gob. “I…yeah. I remember you. At least I do _now_.” Seth smiled and walked over. After a moment of hesitation, they hugged each other in greeting.

“I remember you, too, but I always did,” Maeby said proudly. She smiled at him and accepted a hug from him as well. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You guys, too.”

Maeby smirked as she looked him over. "So, Uncle Gob really  _does_ have a type."

"I  _don't_!" Maeby smirked; it was kind of fun to tease her uncle like that.

Seth laughed. After a moment, he changed the subject and said, “You know, I was there for both of your guys’ first piano lessons. They were both at our apartment in San Francisco." He looked at George Michael and said, "I actually wanted to try to teach you cello during that first one, but you were a _little_ too small for that.”

“And piano’s cooler,” Gob said with a shrug.

Seth rolled his eyes and sat back down. “You need to stop spreading that propaganda.”

“Hey, even Aria agrees, doesn’t she?”

“ _I_ started on piano, too, so it only makes sense for her to start there as well,” Seth said.

“Who’s Aria?” Maeby asked as she and George Michael sat on the floor near the coffee table.

“My daughter,” Seth said at the same time Gob said, “My goddaughter.”

Gob looked at Seth and asked, “She’s, what, nearly five now?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Seth said, shaking his head. “Time goes so fast.”

“I know,” Michael said. “George Michael’s going off to college in the fall.”

“Wow. Where are you heading?”

“UC-Irvine.”

Seth raised an eyebrow at Gob, who said, "UCI is acceptable; it's only UCLA that isn't allowed."

"Of course," Seth said dryly. 

Michael proudly added, “They gave him a very big scholarship. And he can still visit in the new house.”

“Yeah, Gob mentioned you guys were moving.”

Anna nodded excitedly. “Michael found us a _beautiful_ place.”

Michael listed the stats with pride, “Four bedrooms, three and a half bath, _way_ under asking price.” He and Anna high-fived at that and Gob rolled his eyes. What _nerds_.

“Four bedrooms? Are you guys _all_ moving there?” Seth asked.

“Oh, no,” Lindsay said. “Maeby and I are moving to a place closer to LA for her job.”

“Oh, right,” Seth said. The movie producer thing was so weird to him, but he had learned long ago to not question the Bluth family too hard; it just got more confusing the more he questioned it.

Anna explained, “One for me and Michael, one for George Michael when he’s on breaks from school, a guest room…and, eventually, maybe a nursery.” Gob, as much as he felt like rolling his eyes, could only smile at how excited Michael and Anna looked at the possibility of a kid. It was something they had discussed a lot, as a couple and as a little family with George Michael, and all three of them seemed excited at the idea. He knew his brother always hoped he’d have more than one kid; they had even thought Tracey was pregnant again until the doctor gave the news that it was cancer.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I have a timeline worked out and everything,” Anna said. 

“I’m not sure you can really time the kids thing,” Seth said doubtfully.

“If anyone can, it’s Anna,” Gob joked. Anna nodded.

George Michael smiled and admitted, “I can’t wait to be an older brother.”

“Oh, it’s the best,” Gob said eagerly. “They look up to you _so much_ , so you can make them do, like, anything you want.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “It’s going to be a little different with the age difference, Gob.”

“Have you thought of names yet?” Gob asked suddenly.

Anna laughed. “I may have some in mind, but we still have a while before we need to think about that. Besides, I _still_ haven’t figured out my _own_ last name situation. I'll have more time to think about it once we're engaged.” Gob shook his head. He really didn’t get why the two of them weren’t just engaged already, seeing as Anna said stuff like that constantly and they obviously were planning on all of that already. But that was Anna and her timeline for you—and Michael and his willingness to do whatever his girlfriend wanted.

“You’re not going to be a Bluth?” Lindsay asked.

Anna and Michael shared a look before Anna said, “No matter what, I’m staying as Anna Mitchell professionally. Legally, I’ve discussed using a hyphenated name, but I’m not changing to Bluth.”

“It _is_ an archaic tradition,” Lindsay said.

“Yes,” Anna said. “I don’t like the idea of changing my name just because I’m married, unless Michael changed his, too.”

“…And there are some other reasons,” Michael muttered. Anna nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

“Like what?”

Again, Anna and Michael shared a look. After a sigh, Anna looked back at everyone and said, “My family has a… _weird_ naming tradition. And I don’t just mean like how my brother is Griffin Oedipus.”

“You’re _kidding_ ,” Seth interjected.

“I’m not. Unfortunately.” Anna said, “But, the thing is, my legal name isn’t Anna, it’s Georgiana. And we all have the same initials—my middle name is Ophelia. So, if I changed my last name, I’d be Georgiana Ophelia Bluth and—”

“Oh my _god_ , you’d be Aunt Gob!” Maeby said excitedly. Both Anna and Michael brought hands to their forehead as the teasing began.

"Stepmom Gob," George Michael laughed.

“You _have_ to change it,” Lindsay insisted while Seth laughed.

Gob laughed as well. “Geez, Mikey, naming your kid after me was one thing, but dating someone named after me? It’s a little creepy.”

“Why do you think we both don’t want her to change it?” Michael asked dryly.

Gob ignored him. “How did I never know that? We bonded over hating our names!”

“Yeah, well, my family always said we were 'Go Mitchell', not ' _Joe_  Mitchell', and I’ve been going by Anna for _decades_ , so I never thought about it,” Anna said, crossing her arms.

After a little more teasing, the doorbell rang. Gob eagerly got up to answer it, letting in Eve, who gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting, and Steve, who wrapped him up in a big hug. When he brought them back to the living room, Seth stood up and walked over to them.

“Seth, this is Eve; Eve, this is Seth,” Gob said as a proper introduction.

“Nice to meet you,” Seth said, trying his best to not look as awkward as he felt given how he fit into their history.

“You, too,” Eve said, acting very much the same way.

“And this is my son, Steve—”

“Steve Holt!” Steve said as an introduction, his fists in the air.

“Right.”

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, Steve,” Seth said, offering his hand. “Gob’s told me a lot about you. I’m Seth—”

“Uncle Seth!” Steve said, just as excited as he said his own name earlier.

“…I guess that works,” Seth said with a shrug as Steve shook his hand.

For a moment, Steve looked at him curiously. Then he turned to Michael. “You’re right, Uncle Michael; my dad really _does_ have a type.”

“I do _not_!”

* * *

Tony was the first to get to Gob’s place for rehearsal the next day. 

“So, I get to meet the infamous Seth, huh?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, he should be here any minute,” Gob said happily as he continued to tidy up a little. “I’m really excited for you to meet him; he’s seriously, like, my best friend.”

And he _was_ excited for the two of them to meet, because he wanted to show them both off to the other. They were two of the most important people in his life. But he was also a bit nervous for them to meet. It could be a pretty big disaster if they didn’t get along. Not only could that wreck the whole quartet’s dynamic, but it would really hurt him as well.

His nerves weren’t completely mended when Tony joked, “I thought _I_ was your best friend.”

Gob tidied up a little to avoid looking at him. “Well…you _both_ are. He’s been my best friend since we were eighteen, though. It’s different. Our relationship is very different from the one I have with him.”

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing,” Tony said. He briefly paused and added, “And he’s your first… _everything_.”

Gob nodded. Just from all their history and because they had dated for so long, Seth was just always going to know him in a different way. Because, you know, Gob never slept with Tony. Or even made out with him. And Tony wasn’t in love with him like Seth had been at one point.

Thankfully, Gob didn’t have to think about that for too long, since Seth arrived soon after that. Gob eagerly greeted him at the door and smiled as he saw Seth looking at the color of the house.

“That’s quite the color,” Seth said before stepping inside.

“Fun, right?”

“Yeah. I like it,” Seth replied. He kept looking around as Gob took him through the small hallway to his living room. Once he was in there, he put his cello down and noticed Tony right away. As excited as he was to see Gob’s house, he was very interested in meeting Tony. Besides, he had been trained to be very polite, so he figured he should greet someone before he kept looking around his ex’s house.

“So, Seth, this is Tony,” Gob said, smiling out of excitement and slight nervousness at seeing the two of them in the same room. “Tony, this is Seth.”

“Hey,” Seth said, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Tony said, shaking his hand.

“You guys want anything to drink?” Gob asked.

“Water would be great,” Seth said.

“Me, too,” Tony added.

Gob busied himself with going to the kitchen to get some water and the other two men kept looking at each other. Seth had to admit that he enjoyed that Tony was _definitely_ shorter than him; that didn’t happen too often. He could still recognize some similarities between the two of them, much like everyone had said: darker hair, compact body, similar posture.

“You were great in that Paganini concert, by the way,” Seth finally offered. “Gob got me a recording since I couldn’t be there in person and it was really well-done.”

“Well, thanks. Paganini’s my specialty,” Tony said, offering a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Why couldn’t you make it down?”

“Work,” Seth said. “I play for the San Francisco Symphony, and we had our own performances going on that week, unfortunately.”

“How long have you been playing there?”

“God…a decade or so now?” Seth said. “I’ve made it up to second chair, so that’s pretty exciting.”

“Ten years and you still haven’t made it to principal, huh?”

Seth raised his eyebrows. Even though Tony’s voice was light, like he was joking, Seth was pretty sure it was meant to be a dig. He supposed he was a bit offended, but, as he explained, “Getting to second chair in one of the best orchestras in the world is definitely nothing to be ashamed of.” Before Tony could say anything else, he changed the subject by saying, “And then normally I do chamber work over the break, so I’m usually pretty busy. It’s why I haven’t had a chance to come down here since…god, I guess when I visited before choosing my grad school?” He thought about it for a second and then nodded, “Yeah, back during our senior year of college.”

Tony nodded. “Right, right. You were looking at USC?”

Gob came back in with their waters just in time to hear that. He answered for Seth with a laugh and said, “No. Like you, he was looking at UCLA.” He handed a water to Seth and then, as he handed Tony his, Gob said, “But, unlike you, he realized the cool kids don’t go to UCLA.” He joked, “I don’t think I would’ve been able to bring myself to date a guy who went to UCLA.”

Tony frowned, as did Seth. “I think you wouldn’t have dated me if I went there because it would’ve kept you in the area.”

“Yeah, that, too,” Gob shrugged. He had hoped that Seth would choose UCLA at first, but the fact that he went to San Francisco ended up getting him away from his dad, which was for the best.

“I just fell in love with San Francisco, that’s all,” Seth said with a shrug.

“Yeah, I don’t get _that_ part, either,” Gob said.

Seth smirked. “Yeah, because you get cold whenever it’s less than seventy-five degrees.”

“Hey, I set my thermostat to sixty-nine.”

“Of _course_ you do,” Seth replied with a laugh. “I expect no less from the man who deep-throated a Bluth Banana in front of me.”

“Again, I did that just to make you laugh,” Gob said. “And, hey, you remembered it for a reason,” he added with a nudge. Seth simply had some water in response, making Gob laugh. Tony, however, just watched the two of them closely, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Finally, Seth started to look around the living room. At the sight of the piano, he walked over to it and smiled at the small mark on the G3 key. “I forgot you finally got to get your baby back when you moved here,” Seth said.

“Yep. She’s still kickin’.”

Seth nodded and continued looking around the living room. He smiled as he looked over all the album covers, the posters, and the pictures Gob had up. “I love your place.”

“It’s very _me_ , right? That’s what everyone says.”

“Yeah. It’s true,” Seth said. “I was just thinking how it looks a lot like our place did back in the day. Just a nicer piano and some nicer photos—and the reviews you have up, of course.”

“The album cover collection has grown a lot,” Gob pointed out.

“True. I can’t believe you got a vinyl of _Barcelona_. I can’t even find that CD anywhere,” Seth said.

Gob smiled and said, “Tony got that one for me, actually. Birthday present.”

Seth looked over at Tony who smiled at him smugly. Seth raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Impressive. Must have taken you a while to find.” Tony shrugged and looked away. After looking at Tony for a moment longer, Seth went back to looking at the pictures Gob had up.

“ _Aww_ ,” Seth said when he saw the picture of Gob teaching a toddler George Michael piano. “I love that picture.”

“You just like it because you’re in it,” Gob my joked.

“Oh, yes, my hand is definitely the focal point of that photo,” Seth joked back. “God, remember how you went on about how he was going to be the Chopin to your Liszt? And then he turned out to be Henry Cowell?” He laughed at that old joke they had made.

Gob sighed. “It wasn’t even the cool Henry Cowell where he played on the piano strings, but the Henry Cowell who just played with his fists and the whole length of his arm…very disappointing.” He sighed again. “At least I got Maeby. You should hear her play sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Seth said, He looked over at the bookshelf and saw the picture of him, Gob, George Michael, and Tracey. “Oh, Tracey…” Seth sighed sadly and picked it up. “She was the best.”

“I know,” Gob said sadly.

After a moment, Seth put the picture down and looked back at Gob. “I’m glad Michael’s moving on, though. Anna seems like a good match for him—a very _different_ match, but a good one.”

Gob agreed. “Yeah. Two robots in love.” He snorted and added, “Two robots who love to tell me too much about their sex life.”

“You of all people don’t get to complain about people oversharing their sexual activities,” Seth said. “I mean that both about when we were together and everything you tell me, too.”

“Whatever.”

After a moment, Seth asked, “Where are the cats?”

“I put them in my room. You know, because rehearsal and your allergies.”

Seth asked, “Can I see them? I took a shit ton of Claritin just so I could.”

Gob looked worried. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I can handle them for a few minutes. Worst case scenario, my eyes will be a little watery and itchy and I might sneeze a bit.”

“Okay! I love showing them off.”

“He does,” Tony agreed, really just wanting to get a word in edgewise.

Gob opened the door to his room and led Seth and Tony inside. He closed the door so they wouldn’t get out, because catching them before rehearsals was always a bitch and he didn’t want to have to do it again. Rocky and Elise were sharing a cat bed as they napped, the sun coming in from the window over them. Staccato, still the most social of the cats, came over and rubbed against Gob’s legs. Gob picked her up and pet her under the chin.

“This is Staccato,” Gob told Seth.

“Can I hold her?” Seth asked. “I’ll wash my hands afterwards, it’s fine.” Gob handed her over and she purred loudly. Seth made a soft _aw_ noise. “So cute. They’re all so cute. God, I wish I could have cats.” He sighed and gently pet Staccato under her chin. He teased, “Only three, though?”

“ _Only_?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrows.

Seth looked at him like that was a stupid question. Which, frankly, Seth thought it was. “Freddie had, like, _ten_ cats at one point, so I always assumed Gob would get more one day.” After a beat, he clarified, “Freddie _Mercury_.”

“I know which Freddie you meant,” Tony said sharply.

“Seth’s, like, the _only_ other person who knows even half as much as I do about Freddie and Queen,” Gob interjected with a proud smile.

“He’s just lucky I’ve let him claim to be Freddie instead of trying to take that title myself.”

“Hey, I’m the one who plays piano!”

Tony cleared his throat and said, “I mean, I love the guy. But ten cats is a _lot_.”

“Duh. I mean, I don’t live in a mansion,” Gob said. “If I did, ten would be fine, but it’d be a little crowded in this place.”

“True,” Seth said, smiling as he continued to pet Staccato. “Freddie would still be proud of these three. Though he'd possibly be disappointed that you don't sleep with a keyboard as the headboard anymore."

"I know," Gob sighed. "But I hit my head so many times on that thing in San Francisco."

"Yeah. And you woke me up playing it a few too many times," Seth said. "It  _was_ nice when you played songs to help me sleep, though."

Tony crossed his arms as Gob smiled at his ex, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, it’s not like you have to model everything you do after Freddie,” he said. “It’s not like he was perfect.”

“Of course he wasn’t,” Gob said, Seth agreeing right away.

“You’ll actually admit that?”

“Yeah,” Gob said. “He did some things I simply can’t support.”

That made Tony raise his eyebrows. Gob sounded completely serious and solemn in a way he didn’t expect, especially not when it came to Freddie Mercury. It always seemed like Gob had nothing but nice things to say about him. “Really? Like what?”

At the same time, Gob and Seth said, “He left drinks on his piano.”

“…That’s it?”

“Hey, that is a _terrible_ crime,” Gob said seriously. “I barely even allow closed water bottles around my baby.”

Seth nodded. “Once I put an _empty_ water bottle on our upright up in San Francisco and it was one of the worst fights we ever had.”

“At least the make-up sex was good,” Gob said with a sly grin. Seth just rolled his eyes, but his smile said he definitely agreed.

“ _Great_ ,” Tony muttered under his breath. When Seth shot him a look, Tony simply smiled that same smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Seth looked at him suspiciously before gently putting Staccato on the ground and approaching the other cats. “Which one is which again?”

“The Russian Blue—the grey-ish-blue-ish one—is Rocky, short for Rachmaninoff. Don't be offended if he wakes up and runs away; they're a shy breed." Seth nodded. "And the little tabby is Fur Elise,” Gob said proudly. “That’s my favorite name.”

Tony laughed with him. “Mine, too.” Gob smiled at him in appreciation.

“Is she a specific breed?”

“Uh, she’s a domestic shorthair, which is basically the cat term for a mutt,” Gob said. “…That’s at least what Jimmy said.”

Seth looked back at him with a sympathetic look. He knew Gob had been torn up about that ending, feelings for Tony or not.

Tony, however, rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That guy was a tool, regardless of having good tastes in cats,” he said.

“He wasn’t that bad,” Gob muttered as Seth gave Tony the slightest bit of a glare. Couldn't he tell that Gob was hurt over the guy?

Tony shrugged. “I guess he was better than some of the other guys you’ve dated.” He locked eyes with Seth, giving him that same bitchy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

* * *

The first rehearsal was a little rocky, to say the least. But, really, that was to be expected. Seth had to get used to the tempos they were taking, the stylistic choices they made, and get used to following Tony, who, as the violinist, helped signal a lot of tempos. They focused during that first rehearsal on the first movement and the sixth, both of which involved the full quartet.

The sixth, “[Danse de la fureur, pour les sept trompettes (Dance of fury, for the seven trumpets)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gis-uIpQIKo)”, was the hardest in Gob’s opinion. Not only was it rhythmically complicated—there was no time signature and the measure lengths changed constantly throughout the piece—but it was played completely in unison, so they really couldn’t get even the slightest bit off.

Oh, and unlike the other instruments, he didn’t even get a single measure off, by the way.

Despite that, Gob would sometimes take his left hand off the keys and hit his bench to the beat of the eighth note to try to keep everyone in time during that first rehearsal. By the end of the rehearsal, they finally gelled together on that one.

After a few more rehearsals at Gob’s place, they finally got to move into the theater to practice for the two days leading up to the first concert. “This is a nice space,” Seth said once they all got in.

“Right? Not too shabby,” Gob agreed. He took the cover off the piano and quickly played a few chord progressions to make sure it was all in tune as the others started to set up their chairs. After some debate in earlier rehearsals, they had decided on having Tony in the usual first violin space on Gob’s right, Jill across from him, and Seth in the middle near the crook of the piano.

As Seth got his cello out, Gob asked, “Can I tune Ivan?”

Seth laughed. “Why not? He’s missed you.”

“I’ve missed him, too,” Gob said. “He’s the best wood I’ve had between my legs.” Seth shook his head with a smile at that dumb joke he always told. Jill gave a small snort despite herself, but Tony stayed weirdly silent.

Gob sat in Seth’s chair while Seth went to the piano to give them all an A. While Tony and Jill did their own tuning, Seth watched while Gob tuned his cello, just like he did in the old days. He had always enjoyed how much Gob liked learning bits of cello when he had the chance. Gob always seemed to pick up instruments quickly—he remembered one annoying summer when Gob bought a ukulele and practiced it almost as much as he practiced piano—but Seth always thought he’d be a really good cellist.

“Stop showing off,” Jill joked once they were done tuning and Gob had started to play a simple tune with a bit of vibrato added for good measure.

“I always thought you had a gift for cello,” Seth said. Unable to stop himself, Seth said the joke he’d tell him all the time back in the day, “It’s probably because you’re so good at spreading your legs.” Gob always brought out that side of him.

Gob laughed as he stood up, maybe looking a bit embarrassed; he was used to making those jokes himself, but he always got a little flustered when other people made them back. “Well, you _would_ know that,” Gob said simply as he went back to the piano bench.

“So, from the top?” Tony said suddenly. “Full run-through?”

“Sounds good.”

The first and second movements went really well. During the third movement, a clarinet solo, the other three went into the audience in various spots to check the acoustics of the space, double and triple checking that Jill could be heard everywhere. For the fourth movement, a short movement between all the instruments but the piano, Gob stayed out in the seats to make sure it was all balanced as well.

The fifth movement was one of Gob’s favorites. Well, at least when it came to listening to it, though he wasn’t the _biggest_ fan of playing it. The movement, “[Louange à l’Éternité de Jésus (Praise to the eternity of Jesus)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0b03WHkakY)” was for just the cello and piano, but the piano part was really rather simple. Well, compared to almost everything else Gob had to play for the full work. He thought it was beautiful nonetheless.

“Have you guys had a chance to practice this?” Tony asked Gob and Seth. They had only run the group numbers in their practice sessions since Seth had arrived.

“We ran it once or twice,” Seth said.

“Everything clicked like it did the first time,” Gob said simply.

Seth explained, “This was one of the pieces on my second-year grad recital and Gob played piano for me.”

“For _free_.”

“Of course it was free, Gob! We were living together and _dating_ at the time—"

“Yeah. We know,” Tony said irritably. Seth shot him a glare, but Tony didn’t see it as he joined Jill in the audience to test the balance.

Gob got himself centered and then waited for Seth to start. And, much like back in the day, they just _connected_ out there. Though they hadn’t played together for _years_ until that week, Gob knew him well enough to know what every slight movement meant. He could tell when he was going to change the tempo ever so slightly, how the dynamics would change and by how much, and he could even tell just how much vibrato he was going to use on every note just from how he adjusted his fingers.

You couldn’t spend four years dating without knowing someone that well.

“That was great,” Jill said once they finished.

“Did it sound balanced out there?” Gob asked.

“Definitely,” Jill said.

Tony shrugged his violin onto his shoulder. “Maybe a bit too much cello.”

“Should we run it again?” Gob asked.

“No, no, it was fine,” Tony said. “It’s the longest piece in the thing, so we don’t really have time, anyways.” Gob shrugged and turned to the challenging sixth movement. Jill looked at Tony suspiciously, but also turned to the next movement. Seth also turned to the next movement, but shook his head, his jaw clenched.

The sixth movement was rough, but they made it through with plans to run it again after they finished the run-through. Gob felt like it was just because Tony might have led them to go too fast, but he knew better than to question Tony on that in the middle of rehearsal. Then the seventh went just fine, probably because it was easier to play than the odd rhythms in unison, but Gob also liked playing the seventh a lot anyways.

Finally, Jill and Seth went into the audience for the eighth and final movement, a duet for violin and piano. “[Louange à l’Immortalité de Jésus (Praise to the immortality of Jesus)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNUZTmFRJ4g)” worked as a counterpart to the cello and piano duet. Once again, the piano part wasn’t the most exciting thing; it had the same rhythm for every beat of every measure, minus a few grace notes. But at least it was a slightly more complicated rhythm so it wasn’t _too_ boring.

And, well, it was a song with Tony. Those were never boring to Gob.

Gob smiled at Tony before they started. Then, after centering himself, he put his fingers on the keys and, without even having to check with Tony, he took a breath and started the piece.

That was the thing about playing with Tony. He never really even had to check with him or look at him. He barely had to think about playing with him. There was something so organic, so _natural_ about playing with him, a connection that went beyond any other music partner he had. Even more than Seth.

So, yeah, that movement went perfectly. Gob felt a warm, fuzzy, fluttering feeling in his stomach once they finished the movement. Jill and Seth both clapped from the audience and Gob smiled at Tony. Tony smiled back and Gob knew that, no matter what feelings he had and no matter what feelings Tony had back, he could never quit playing with him. Not when they could create magic like that.

* * *

After running the sixth movement and a few other rough patches, their time in the rehearsal space was over. Jill packed up and headed out quickly to get to dinner with her family.

“Hmm, food _does_ sound good,” Gob said, starting to cover the piano again. “You guys wanna grab something to eat?”

Seth and Tony looked at each other, as if sizing the other up, Gob completely unaware of the hostility.

“Sure. I just need to get Ivan back to the hotel,” Seth said. “And I should probably check in on Christopher and make sure he and Aria are ready to fly out.”

“Oh, yeah, they’re getting here tomorrow, right?” Gob asked. “Aw, this is the first time my goddaughter will hear me play professionally. That’s cool.”

“Yeah. She’s gonna love hearing her Uncle Gob,” Seth agreed.

“You wanna come, Tony?” Gob asked.

Tony looked curiously at Seth and then back to Gob. He didn’t particularly want to be around Seth anymore, but he also didn’t particularly want to leave Gob and Seth alone. After a moment, he said, “…Why not?”

“Great!” Gob beamed. “Let me find that stage manager or whatever so he knows we’re ready to lock up.”

The other two nodded and went back to packing up their instruments as Gob left the theater. Both of them were silent for a while, until Seth broke the silence. He was kneeling on the floor, finishing zipping up his cello case as he chuckled, “You _really_ don’t like me, do you?”

Tony paused. “…I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Seth snorted. “I wasn’t _really_ asking a question because I _know_ you don’t like me.” He got up off the floor and shrugged. “It’s fine, really, because I don’t like you, either.”

Tony raised an eyebrow as Seth crossed his arms. “Really?”

“Really.” Seth looked Tony dead in the eye and Tony looked right back, his arms crossing as well.

There was a long silence until Tony finally said, “At least we agree on something.”

Seth nodded mutely. “Though, to be fair, I probably wouldn’t dislike you _nearly_ as much if you weren’t acting like a bitch.” Tony’s jaw clenched slightly but he remained silent. “I would still dislike you, though; I’m not a huge fan of guys who jerk around my best friend.”

That finally made Tony speak again. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Tony,” Seth said with a sigh. “You _know_ that Gob has feelings for you and you just keep stringing him along—”

“What?”

“You can’t act like you don’t know that he’s crazy for you,” Seth said, his eyebrows furrowing together as Tony’s arms lowered. “It’s why he hasn’t been able to date anyone for more than a few months _max_ and why he keeps throwing himself into clubs all the time.” Seth let out a breath of laughter, “Hell, he never would be doing these chamber pieces, at least not as often, if you weren’t the one doing them with him. I _know_ you aren’t blind to all of that.”

However, in the long silence that followed, Seth took in Tony’s furrowed brows and shocked face. “Gob…Gob likes me?” Tony asked quietly.

At first, Seth thought Tony had to be messing with him. There was no way he could be _that_ oblivious to how Gob acted around him, how he smiled at him, how he _looked_ at him.

But as he kept looking at Tony, it became clear that Tony really _was_ surprised.

“…You really _are_ that oblivious, huh?” Seth said.

Tony shook his head. “He…he doesn’t like me—I mean, he likes me as a friend, but…” He shook his head again. There was no way that could be true. No way.

“… _Fuck_ ,” Seth whispered to himself. He really hadn’t thought he had said some new information or anything. He ran a hand over his face and looked back over at Tony. “Seriously? After all these years you never suspected anything?”

There was a small silence before Tony asked, still shocked, “It’s been _years_?”

“ _Jesus Christ_ …” Seth looked Tony over and then shook his head. “I… _wow_. Okay.”

Seth sighed and looked Tony straight in the eye. “Look. I really thought I was just stating the obvious here. I didn’t mean to reveal anything. I…” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. When he looked back at Tony, he said, “Gob is my best friend. We’ve been through a _lot_ together. And he’s a great guy who I just want to be happy. And…and you make him happy.”

Tony smiled a little, though he looked a bit dazed. Seth frowned and continued, “But you also make him miserable. Because with you around, he won’t move on. He _can’t_ move on. And if you really _are_ his friend—”

“I am,” Tony said, looking up at Seth questioningly.

Seth nodded. “If you really consider yourself his friend, then you have to stop hanging out with him.” Tony tried to interrupt, but Seth kept going, “You have to stop hanging out with him, because I know him, Tony. I know that he’s an addictive personality and he’s so desperate for affection and everything, that he’s never, _ever_ going to stop hanging out with you unless you make him stop. And it doesn’t have to be forever. It just needs to be long enough for him to get over you. I don’t know how long that’ll take, but…but he deserves a chance to be with someone who feels the same way back. So, _please_ give him some space.”

After a moment, Seth said, “Either that or make a move on him.” Tony gave him a surprised look and Seth said, “I don’t know what your whole… _deal_ is, but your reaction to me hasn’t necessarily been a heterosexual one.”

As Seth continued to stare at Tony, Tony opened his mouth. But then the door to the theater opened up again and Gob bounded back in with a big smile. “Dinner?”

Tony looked between his friend and Seth. “…I actually think I’m gonna…gonna eat at home. I’m really tired.”

That time, Tony could notice how Gob deflated a little. “Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?” Gob and Seth nodded. Then, with one last look, Tony left the theater.

“…Did something happen?” Gob asked Seth.

Seth looked to his friend and debated what he should say. Finally, he just said, “I think he just needs some time alone.”

* * *

At rehearsal the next day, Tony was professional and polite with Seth, which was a welcome change after days of backhanded compliments and not-so-subtle digs at his expense. His change of attitude seemed to help everything go better as they ran it all in order again, that time also practicing sitting on stage for the movements they didn’t play.

“Dinner?” Gob asked Seth and Tony again once rehearsal ended.

“I can’t; I need to pick-up Christopher and Aria.”

“Oh, yeah, duh,” Gob said.

After a moment, Tony said, “I mean, I could do something.” Gob lit up and soon the three of them left the theater together. Seth couldn’t help but look at Tony, curious as to what he planned on doing about the whole situation.

That thought soon left his head as he heard a very familiar voice call out, “ _Daddy!_ ”

Gob couldn’t help but flinch at that word, but Seth’s face lit up. “Aria!” His daughter ran over and he put down his cello and crouched down to take her into his arms. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Papa wanted to surprise you!” She pulled out of her dad’s hold and then excitedly said, “Uncle Gob!”

“Ari!” Gob greeted back, giving her a hug and picking her up in the process, much to her delight.

As Gob asked Aria how she was doing, Christopher made his way over and exchanged a quick kiss with Seth. Tony watched the four of them interact, feeling very lost again. Thankfully, Seth’s Midwestern sensibilities kicked in and he said, “Christopher, this is Tony, our violinist; Tony, this is my partner, Christopher.”

Tony shook his hand and greeted him. Christopher nodded and said, “Oh, yes, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Seth nudged him and Tony looked at him wearily.

“Um…yeah. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“If it’s from Gob, it’s probably a lie,” he said dryly. Seth nudged him again before Gob came over, Aria still in his arms.

“Christopher,” Gob said with a nod of his head in greeting.

“Gob,” Christopher greeted back in a similar manner. Tony couldn’t help but notice that, despite the formality of their movements and lack of emotion in their voices, there seemed to be some sort of begrudging affection between the two of them.

“Uncle Gob says he has kitties!” Aria said excitedly. “Can I meet them? Please?”

Seth looked at Tony, who looked a bit strained, and then back to his daughter. “We’ll let you meet them later, okay? I haven’t taken my allergy medication today.” Aria frowned but after a little pouting and a promise that she’d meet the cats before she left, she walked with her dads to the rental car and left Tony and Gob alone.

"Is something going on with them?" Christopher asked Seth quietly. "I mean, more than the usual?"

A breath of laughter escaped Seth's mouth. "You don't know the half of it." 

* * *

Gob couldn’t help but notice that Tony was a little off throughout dinner at his place. And that was weird because Gob didn’t notice a lot of things. Like, ever. But Tony seemed nervous to talk, laughed a bit too loudly at Gob’s jokes, and definitely had more wine than usual.

It was _weird_.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” Gob asked. That was probably it, right?

“…A little,” Tony admitted.

“If you want, we can run some things,” Gob suggested. “I mean, I think it all sounded great today, but if you want some extra practice?”

Tony thought about it and shook his head. “No. I think I’m fine. Maybe if we had everyone here, but…” he shrugged slightly, “I mean, everything we play together…I don’t know, it just fits.”

Gob beamed. “Yeah. It’s like you get me.”

“Yeah. And you get me back.” Gob nodded in agreement, still smiling brightly. It was a contagious smile, one that he couldn’t help but return. Gob always managed to get him to respond like that.

He put his wine glass back down on the coffee table. “I probably shouldn’t have more wine, though. Need to be ready for tomorrow. Clear head and all.”

“Right,” Gob said.

They were silent for a while, before Tony said, “I was thinking about what we could do after this concert.”

“You mean, like, party-wise?”

“No. I’d leave partying decisions up to you,” Tony said, smiling slightly. “Like, performance-wise.” He shrugged and casually suggested, “Maybe we could try some duets.”

Gob felt a spark run through him. “…Like, just the two of us?”

“That _is_ what a duet is, right?”

“Right,” Gob said, laughing slightly. “Uh…I mean, yeah. What, uh…what were you thinking of?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s an amazing Sonata for violin and piano by Prokofiev. Tons from Beethoven. Bartók. A _beautiful_ one by Enescu…” Tony listed. “Oh, Stravinksy’s _Suite italienne_ , too. We could do multiple things for concerts together. Just the two of us.”

Butterflies fluttered in Gob’s stomach at hearing Tony suggesting things for just the two of them. No one else, just them.

“…Yeah. Yeah, those are all great,” Gob said, even though he had no idea what most of them sounded like.   

Tony nervously looked over at Gob and then over to the piano. A memory popped into his head, one that both made him anxious and excited at the same time. “Remember I tried to play piano for you?” Tony asked.

Gob paused. After a moment, he let out a small laugh, trying to stay casual. “Of course I do. And I helped you play it even better.” After a moment, he added, “I never _did_ finish giving you those lessons, though.”

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Tony said, also laughing a little. “Totally unfair of you after all the baking lessons I gave you, too.”

“Well, hey, maybe I can show you something now,” Gob suggested. “I mean, you know, if you want.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should do the playing,” Tony said.

Well, Gob never needed to be told twice to play something. He sat down at the piano and, surprisingly, he played a short piece that Tony was sure wasn’t Liszt.

“Who was that? Schumann?” Tony asked. When Gob confirmed it, Tony said, "Interesting choice."

"Why? Did you expect Liszt?" Gob asked, rolling his eyes slightly. "I  _do_ have layers, Vivaldi. Give me  _some_ credit."

"I never said you didn't!" After a beat, Tony admitted, "I think there's a lot more to you than meets the eye."

"Exactly,  _thank_ you!" Gob stood up, not aware that Tony had stood up as well. "I can play a lot of composers besides Liszt. He's just my favorite."

"I know," Tony said as he started to walk over. They had this conversation before.

"Like, I love me some Robert  _or_ Clara Schumann. And I didn't name my cat after Rachmaninoff for nothing."

"I know," Tony repeated. They had also had this conversation before.

"It's not my fault Liszt wrote some of the most amazing piano music of all time! What kind of pianist  _wouldn't_ want to play his stuff?"

They had had  _that_ conversation before, too. Many,  _many_ times. Enough so that Tony didn't feel bad for interrupting.     

“Gob?”

Gob turned around and, before he understood what was happening, Tony was leaning up, taking his face in his hands, and pressing their lips together.

It took a second for Gob to react, his whole system pausing in shock as he tried to process what was happening. But then his natural instinct took over and he started to kiss Tony back, his arms snaking around his lower back as he pulled him closer, a shiver running through his body. He could smell Tony’s cologne, the scent Gob had come to associate with him, and he moaned quietly, a bit higher than usual, as he realized he was kissing the man he’d been in love with for so long.

But then it hit him. He was kissing the man he had been in love with for so long. But the man he was in love with didn’t love him back. That man was straight. That man had no reason to be kissing him.

As much as Gob didn’t want to end the kiss and ruin one of the best moments of his life, he had to. He pulled his lips from Tony’s, however reluctantly as he might have been, and his eyes explored Tony’s face in confusion as he tried to get his breath back.

“But…I…you…Sally,” Gob said.

“We broke up,” Tony said. “A long time ago.”

Oh. Right. True.

Tony moved back to kiss him again, but Gob stopped him, looking him right in the eye. “But…but you’re straight.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “If I were straight, would I be making out with you right now?”

Gob gaped, slowly shaking his head. “I…no. But you—oh!” Tony had apparently gotten tired of waiting for Gob to kiss him again and instead started to suck against a rather sensitive part of his neck. _Jesus_. “ _Fuck_ , Tony, I—” He rolled his hips slightly, wanting to just let the subject die so he could go back to kissing Tony, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t yet. “Tony, I—why are you doing this? You’re not gay?”

Tony pulled back and looked at Gob. “Can’t this conversation wait? I really— _god_ , I’ve wanted to do this for years now.”

“You’re not gay.”

“No, I’m not,” Tony said. Gob felt his stomach drop; he had expected Tony to just admit that he had been super-closeted or something.

But, wait, why was he kissing him, then? Was he just faking interest for some reason? That didn’t make sense. Was he so closeted he couldn’t admit he was gay?

“Then…I…what?”

“Gob, I’m bi,” Tony said simply, as if this was some obvious fact he should’ve known about him. “Can we finish this conversation some other time? Please? I really just wanna keep kissing you.”

For a moment, Gob just looked at Tony. He figured they should really talk, since it seemed pretty important. But he took in Tony’s slightly swollen lips and the look in his eyes and _Jesus_ how was he supposed to resist that? After a few breaths, Gob nodded and wordlessly pressed his lips to Tony’s again, increasing the intensity almost immediately as he did so.

Now, Gob always loved kissing. He was pretty sure the only reason he slept with all the girls he did was because kissing was always so nice to him. But it had been a while since he had kissed like this. It was honestly like back when he was a freshman in high school, back when making out was still new and the most exciting thing he had experienced. Everything felt new and fresh and amazing with Tony, from how he nibbled his bottom lip to how he eventually pressed his tongue in his mouth to how his hands gripped at his shoulders.

The only problem with the kiss at all was, well, the height difference. Gob had thought about how that height difference meant he could possibly do the Dirty Dancing lift with him or how he could curl around him or how much he loved being held down and fucked by smaller guys, but Gob hadn’t considered the kissing thing, definitely not while standing. He was bending over a bit just to make their lips meet, and he was pretty sure Tony was standing on his toes to help bridge the distance, too.

But Tony seemed to have a solution for that. As small as he was, had no problem pushing Gob further back. Initially when Gob felt his piano at his back, he tried to press back against Tony, but Tony pushed him a bit further until Gob was half-sitting on the piano keys. He was so consumed by the kiss and the tickling of Tony’s facial hair that, for the first time, he didn’t mind the Henry Cowell style of notes ringing out in his living room. In fact, he barely noticed, not when he could better reach Tony’s lips and his hands could move to Tony’s shoulders and around his neck to lightly tug at his spiky hair, resulting in a noise far more pleasant from Tony’s lips than any music Gob had heard in years.

They finally parted for air, and a part of Gob—albeit a very, very, _very_ small part—said they should start talking before they got carried away. But, again, it wasn’t a large part of him, and his lips seemed to have a mind of their own, because instead of talking, they moved to Tony’s neck, licking and sucking down until he reached the collar of Tony’s shirt. His eyes briefly looked back up at Tony, as if asking if they were going that far, and Tony responded by untucking his shirt from his pants.

A thrill of excitement ran up Gob’s spine as he pulled away enough to let Tony take off his shirt, throwing his own off somewhere to the side, his eyes too busy watching Tony unbutton his shirt to care where his own ended up. He groaned, his hands back at Tony’s shoulders and running down his chest while Tony was still working on the buttons, too consumed with passion and energy and want to wait for him to finish unbuttoning in order to touch him.

Gob pressed his lips back to Tony’s once his shirt was off, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in close as he stood back up again, dealing with the awkward angle as best as he could.

He was grateful he did seconds later, because Tony’s hands slipped down his waist and along his lower back, soon squeezing his ass through his pants and _fuck_ —Gob rocked his hips forward with a moan against Tony’s lips. It was almost embarrassing how fucking hard he was already. Like, yeah, he had been waiting for this moment for years at that point, but he still felt a bit like a teenager for being rock hard from a make-out session. _Just_ a make-out session. Because that was all they were doing, right?

Well, Gob thought that was the case until he felt Tony’s hands move around to the front side of his body and start unfastening one of his G-belts.

Gob pulled his lips back, any part of his brain saying they should stop completely silenced as Tony managed to undo his belt. A beat later, Gob had started on Tony’s belt and fly as well, biting his lip as he prepared himself to see what he had been imagining for so long.

Not that he even really looked, because almost as soon as Tony’s pants were down, Gob had his hand wrapped around his cock, moving much faster than Tony seemed to be able to. They both moaned at the contact, Tony stopping his movements for a moment as Gob gripped him tightly. Gob couldn’t help but grin at the look on Tony’s face, one of shock and arousal—

A started gasp of a moan left Gob’s lips seconds later as Tony got his hand wrapped around him as well, his grip warm and firm. They locked eyes for a moment, and Gob just stared, in shock that this was really, truly, actually happening. This wasn’t some weird dream or anything; he was actually about to be jerked off by Tony Wonder in his living room during a make-out session like they were some fucking teenagers. He felt almost dizzy as he tried to process all of it.

But he couldn’t stop it, and he wouldn’t want to if he could. Not when Tony started smirking at him like that as he started to stroke him. Gob moaned rather helplessly at the unexpected contact and soon found himself pushed back again, but while he heard the sound of several keys being hit, he didn’t register it at all. He barely remembered where he was as Tony started to stroke him and kiss at his neck, his beard tickling a particularly sensitive spot along the way. Only one of his feet remained on the ground as he basically sat on the keyboard behind him, his legs spread as his free hand landed next to him for balance. He moaned as the dissonant cluster of chords rang out right as Tony squeezed him  _just_ right, Gob's hand around Tony's cock falling away as he was overloaded with sensations. Thankfully, Tony didn't seem to mind. 

"Can't believe you already spread your legs for me," Tony teased breathlessly in Gob's ear, "Very slutty of you." Gob groaned and rolled his hips as best as he could in his position, a new clang of keys ringing out at once from the move. Tony moaned as well. " _Jesus_ , you weren't kidding about liking that…" But he didn't add any more dirty talk to that. He just stroked Gob faster, harder, determined to make him come. Soon Gob brought the hand that had been around Tony's cock moments earlier to the back of his head, gently tugging at Tony's spiky hair in order to bring their lips back together. Tony groaned at the sensation. What could he say? He didn't like people messing up his hair, but he definitely loved how it felt. And as Gob's fingers started to weave through his hair, he came to the conclusion that Gob had talented fingers beyond playing the piano.

He also came to the conclusion that Gob was getting close. Gob was panting as he pulled back from Tony's lips, his forehead pressing against Tony's as his eyes closed, his hand dropping down from Tony's head to his shoulder, his fingers gripping almost painfully tight his skin. If Gob hadn't been so sucked into the moment and still so shocked from all that had gone down, he would've been embarrassed over how quickly that coiling sensation started in his stomach. But it was hard to be embarrassed when Tony was stroking him and groaning and urging him on with a low whisper of his name in a way better than any fantasy Gob had ever had over the last few years. He moaned helplessly until, finally, his head fell back and he let out a loud moan as he came into Tony's hand, Tony stroking him all the way through it.

When Gob finally blinked his eyes open, he ran on instinct. He brought Tony’s hand to his mouth and licked along his palm all the way up to his index finger. _"Jesus_ ," Tony whispered, his free hand running down to his own cock. Gob sucked over every single finger, getting every drop of come on there, licking his tongue over every bit he could get, basically showing Tony just how good he could suck him off—

But then Gob thought, why not show him the real thing?

With that, Gob hopped off the piano keys and dropped down to his knees. Tony swore under his breath yet again as Gob moved Tony's hand away from his cock. He licked over his lips as he wrapped a hand around the base of Tony's erection and looked up at him. With their eyes locked, Gob leaned forward and licked over the head of Tony's cock, dangerously slow.

Gob closed his eyes and, after a deep breath, he sucked in the head of Tony's cock and immediately started to bob his head. God, he loved giving head, possibly even more than getting it sometimes. He loved the heat surrounding his head, he loved having something in his mouth, and he loved hearing the moans from whoever he was sucking off—but _god_  did Tony's sound more musical to his ears. Gob moved his free hand to Tony's balls, cupping them as he continued to bob his head as fast as he could, determined to make this the best blow job he could, to make Tony come, to make Tony want to come again and again.

He seemed to be doing a good job of that, if Tony's moans were any indication. He also got some more confirmation in the form of Tony's hips rolling forward. Gob choked for a moment at the unexpected move and Tony started to stutter out an apology as Gob pulled off of him to catch his breath. But Gob was back on him seconds later, turning Tony's apology back into a groan as he sucked hard around the head of his dick before swirling his tongue around the tip. He pulled off again to wipe his mouth and used his other hand to stroke Tony as he caught his breath. Gob chanced a look up at Tony, his heart pounding at how pleased the other man looked as he gazed down at him. Gob eagerly leaned forward again and started to bob his head down Tony's shaft and sucked.

Tony brought a hand to Gob's head, lightly tugging at his hair in a way that made Gob moan around him. Tony moaned loudly at that and his hips rolled forward again, but Gob was prepared that time, enough so that he managed not to choke. He hummed around Tony, whatever song he was possibly purposefully humming a mystery to Tony as he found himself moaning louder than expected.

" _Jesus_ , Gob, your  _mouth_ …" Tony gasped out. "I'm— _fuck_ —I'm gonna…"

Gob didn't need any more warning than that. He pulled back to just suck on the head of Tony's dick, his hand stroking him fast as he started to hum yet again around the sensitive area. Tony whimpered— _Gob_ made him do that,  _he_ did that!—and, moments later, Tony’s torso collapsed forward as he came. Gob could hear one of Tony’s hands landing on the keys above him, which sounded weirdly beautiful combined with the moan from Tony’s lips. Gob simply sucked as Tony's hips rolled towards his mouth in small thrusts, come filling his mouth.

After a few moments, Tony looked back down at Gob, pulling his cock out of his mouth. Gob made sure to lock eyes with Tony as he swallowed. Tony, though definitely spent, moaned at the sight, and he swore his cock twitched ever-so-slightly as well. Gob licked over his lips, making sure he got every drop before standing back up, his eyes focused on Tony the whole time.

Once Gob was fully standing, Tony pulled him back in for a kiss, a softer one this time, and Gob closed his eyes as he gently kissed him back. Once they broke apart, Gob kissed him again and again and again, unable to help himself. He knew there were questions he needed to ask and conversations that needed to be had (not to mention a _piano_ to clean), but at that moment, all he could care about was enjoying the small, sweet kisses as a warmth spread through his chest.

* * *

“So…should we talk?”

That was the second time Tony had asked that. Though the handjob/blowjob exchange had ended nearly half an hour before and both men were fully clothed, Gob, had been staring at the wall in front of him for a while, just trying to get his thoughts together.

“Sorry, I, uh…I need another minute. To…to think,” Gob said, his brain working a million miles a minute and feeling, frankly, like he was spinning.

“Because it was me or because it was that good?” Tony asked.

“…Both,” Gob said honestly. “I’ve never…never done that…”

“You’ve never what? Exchanged a blow job for a hand job?”

Gob scoffed. “What? No! That’s, like, a regular Tuesday night for me,” he said dismissively. “…I’ve just never done _that_ against a piano…Or even within, like, five feet of one…”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “ _Really_? _You_ haven’t of all people? The guy who gets hard from being called Liszt has never done anything in the vicinity of a piano?”

“I don’t even put _water bottles_ near my baby; do you think I’d let all those… _liquids_ around her?” Gob looked back at his piano and then back towards Tony, though he didn’t look right at him. “…I really need to sanitize her, but you may have given me a piano kink now. _Jesus_.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve always had one,” Tony said.

“Maybe. But now I _really_ have one because I _really_ wanna do that again.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we always _could_ —”

“Not right now,” Gob said, and he could hardly believe _he_ was the one who said that of all people, but he couldn’t even think about sex right then. He had too many other things to think about.

“Right,” Tony said quietly.

They were silent for a while, Gob still collecting his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at Tony and said, “Okay. So. You’re bi?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah.”

“And is this some new discovery?”

After a beat, he admitted, “No. I’ve known since before I met you.”

“And you never thought to tell me that?”

Tony sighed. “I…well, you never asked.”

Gob rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I told _you_ I was gay before I was even publicly out—”

“Only because I asked!” Tony pointed out. “I wondered for over a year if you were gay and only asked after I got too curious to hold it back anymore.”

“It’s been _years_ , though,” Gob said, honestly a little frustrated. “Literal _years_ since that conversation and since we’ve been friends. I had only known you for, like, a year when you asked. If you…you never thought you could trust me with this? Or that maybe I’d at least be happy to know you could sort of understand what I felt?”

“I don’t think I really _can_ understand what you feel,” Tony said. “My coming out story and figuring this out thing wasn’t like yours.”

“What was it like, then?”

Tony looked down at his lap for a moment, seemingly collecting his own thoughts. Finally, he said, “I realized I liked guys when I was a teenager and I…yeah, I was a little freaked out at the idea, so I told my sister, Angie. She was always my best friend in those days. And she was accepting of that, though she thought I was just kidding myself by saying I liked girls, too, but that’s another story.

“Anyways, then there was a guy I was friends with who was also into guys. He came over one day and we…we made out. And my sister Lizzie walked in.” Tony rolled his eyes. “And being the loud mouth she is, she immediately told my parents and it turned into this whole… _thing_.”

Even though it had been years since Gob was a teenager, he still felt a sense of dread at those words. He could still remember the dread and fear and shame he felt when Michael had walked in on him making out with Dave all those years ago, even though he was already in his twenties.

“And I know I’m lucky. Because my parents were mostly confused, but they didn’t yell at me or kick me out—”

“Or punch you?” Gob provided.

“Yeah, none of that, either,” Tony said. “They weren’t completely okay with it, though.There was a family meeting and lectures and I had to explain over and over again that I could and  _did_  like both guys and girls, but they just thought I was gay and kidding myself and it just pissed me off. And, god…My dad…I could barely look him in the eye for _weeks_ after he found out. He didn't hate me, but…but he wasn't okay with it. And my mom kept getting all teary-eyed and kept talking about AIDS and wanting grandchildren—as if none of my siblings were gonna have kids? It was _so_ dumb.”

Tony sighed. “And then I started dating a girl my senior year of high school and they all got confused all over again. Eventually, my parents thought I had just gone through a phase and…it just got so _exhausting_. And after the stuff with Daniel's widow happened…" Tony shifted awkwardly, "After that, the idea of dating a guy just seemed out of the question. I already brought so much drama, I guess I just thought dating a guy would be more drama and stress. I felt ostracized enough, you know? And I just figured, I like girls, too. I don’t need to date guys. So…yeah, I just didn’t. I kept dating girls." After a moment, he clarified, "I mean, I’ve hooked up with guys, I just never _dated_ them.” With a shrug, he added, “I haven’t really dated that many girls, either. I’m not really good at the dating thing. And I never really met any guy who caught my interest enough to date.”

Gob remained silent, not sure what to say to any of the whole situation.

“…Then I met you.”

Gob looked over at Tony, surprised to see him smiling sheepishly. And, despite himself, Gob couldn’t help but smile a little back. “…Really?”

Tony nodded. “Once I got to know you—I never felt like that for a guy before. Or even with a girl, for that matter. Like we just… _connected_.”

Gob nodded back. Yeah, he knew what he meant by that.

“And it scared me,” Tony said honestly. “Because the idea of dating a guy, having to deal with that with my family, especially after the whole thing with Daniel’s widow…I got scared. And then I met Sally.”

Gob tensed at the mere mention of her. “Right.”

“And I really  _did_ like her. She’s not as bad as you think,” Tony said. At Gob’s glare, he rushed out, “Yeah, right, not the right time.” He shook his head and continued, “By the time Sally and I were done, you were dating other people. And I didn’t think you were interested. You had even made it clear you wouldn’t date musicians, and for all I knew, that was you trying to tell me directly that you weren’t interested.” In a quieter voice, he admitted, “I never thought you were interested before Sally, either. You made it clear your interests lied elsewhere.”

“Right. Because of Gary,” Gob said.

With a slight laugh, Tony shook his head. “Yeah, I knew he was a part of it. But he wasn’t my main guy concern when it came to you.”

“What do you mean?”

Yet again, Tony let out a small laugh, almost a scoff. “Gob. Look around this place.”

Gob looked around his living room questioningly. “…Even if I _could_ date Freddie Mercury, it’d be kinda weird, don’t you think? Because, like, I’ve wanted to be him for basically my whole life?” He tilted his head in thought and asked himself in a quieter voice, “ _Would_ I date Freddie Mercury?”

“No, Freddie has nothing to do with it,” Tony said with a shake of his head. Gob snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at him. “I meant Seth.” Gob looked at him in confusion. “You have all these pictures of Seth up. You talk about him constantly, you visit him once a year, you’ve ‘joked’ about wanting a threesome with him and his partner, you call him the person Freddie wrote ‘Love of My Life’ about, you haven’t had a relationship last even half as long as the one you had with him, you said you wouldn’t date musicians because of him…”

“So?” Gob asked, confused.

“So? Gob, I…no one I know is that close to their ex,” Tony said. “I thought you weren’t over him. And I thought that you didn’t have any other successful relationship because of that.” Gob stared at him. Tony slowly lowered his eyes and quietly admitted, “Seeing how you two talk and interact and everything…I don’t know. It’s been a really, _really_ weird few days.”

Gob looked at Tony as the other man looked down at his lap. Gob thought about what Tony said and, after a few moments, he sat down next to him.

“Seth and I really _are_ just friends,” Gob said quietly. “When we were going out, even right until the end, I always had this feeling…butterflies, I guess? Something really special. And even when we’d hook up over the years, I still had that feeling, yeah. But after some more time apart, some more time with Christopher…it faded.”

Tony looked over at him, their eyes locking. After some consideration, Tony nodded, accepting that answer. Then he looked away again and said, “It’s still scary, you know. To think of trying to live up to that. Like…you have all this history together, you both know each other so well, and I know you really,  _really_ were in love with him.”

“…Well, yeah, that’s all true,” Gob said with a shrug. He wasn’t sure what else to say. “I don’t think anyone knows me as well as Seth does.” Tony rolled his eyes; that wasn’t making him feel any better. “Or…I don’t know. I used to think that…”

Gob sat silently for a moment, trying to put his thoughts back in order. A lot of things were hitting him after everything Tony said, after spending time with both Seth and Tony in the same place, after whatever had just happened up against his piano—and seriously why had he never done that before?

It seemed like after years of feeling like the Marschallin, he suddenly was actually Octavian and he had explain to a new person that he was in love with _them_ , not his former love.

“…With Seth—or even with, like, Anna or someone—they know me because it’s been _years_ ,” Gob said slowly. “Like, yeah, with Michael and Lindsay, they…they _get_ some of it because there are some things only they can get because of our parents, you know? But the reason Seth can understand me or can read me like a piece of sheet music is because he’s known me for so long.

“But you…you’ve understood me since day one,” Gob said. “You didn’t need to learn how to figure me out.”

“…I don’t know about that,” Tony said. “You really confused me when we first met.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t really being myself when I first met you,” Gob said. “I didn’t even have you call me by the right name. But once you met the real Gob…I don’t know, you managed to figure out I was gay before I told you. You knew what kind of music I like—”

“Because Michael told me you liked Liszt and you played that encore—”

“But it was also music you liked, too. You would’ve done something with Paganini even without me,” Gob pointed out. “I mean…you showed up to my birthday party in a WHAM shirt without even knowing I was dressing up as George Michael. That’s…that’s pretty crazy.” Tony laughed slightly at the memory. That was true.

Gob ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. “I guess I’m just saying that…that it’s different with Seth. With _everyone_ . They know me because they’ve had years to get to know me.  _Decades_ in some cases. But you…you just get me. And I think I get you.

“Like, even musically. I know how to play with Seth because I spent years doing it. I know his signals and everything. With you, though, I just…I _feel_ it, you know?” Gob asked. “You feel that, too, right?”

Slowly, Tony nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“It’s why I wanted to keep making music with you. You know, that and…and it was better to spend time with you than not see you,” Gob muttered. “Everyone told me th-that I should’ve stopped seeing you, you know. Because…because I wasn’t moving on.” He laughed bitterly. "I kept trying, you know. But no one ever compared to you. And when they got close…well, you know what happened with Jimmy."        

Tony nodded guiltily. "I…If I knew you felt that way, Gob, I…" He shook his head. "I would've done something. I really would've. But I was so sure—you seemed so happy with Gary, and the Seth thing, then I ran into Sally and I just  _panicked_ , because I didn't want to be falling for the closest friend I had in  _years_." He let out an air of laughter. "I can't really risk losing friends. I…I don't really have a lot of friends to begin with."

"Well, duh."

"Shut up, you dick."

"I didn't mean it like it was a bad thing," Gob said. "You don't have a lot of friends because you're a Russian Blue."

Tony stared at Gob for a while. "…What?"

"You're a Russian Blue," Gob repeated, as if that made it any clearer. At Tony's confused look, Gob rolled his eyes. "Russian Blues tend to bond with one person or _maybe_ a small family. They don't do well with strangers. They come off cool and mysterious and slinky—until you get to know them and you realize they're playful and cute and maybe even a little cuddly." He smiled and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "So, yeah, you're a Russian Blue."

Yet again, Tony stared at Gob. That was actually a very clever read on him. "I…yeah. Wow. I guess I kinda am."

"I know, right? It's why Rocky loves you so much," Gob said. He shyly smiled and admitted, "Well, and because he has good taste. And maybe he takes after his dad a little, too." 

Tony smiled shyly at that, too. After a moment, he laughed and said, "And I guess you're kinda a Ragdoll/Siamese mix? Cuddly and social and very loud and vocal?"

"And big," Gob said. "Ragdolls are one of the largest cat breeds."

"Right," Tony said with a laugh. "And Fur Elise is…?"

Gob looked confused. "Fur Elise is just a kitten."

"Of course."

After a small silence, Gob crossed his arms and said, "You still should've told me you were bi."

"I know."

"We're friends; you should've trusted me."

Tony shrugged. "Well, I thought I could trust my family, and it made me feel like a real outsider to them." With a hesitating breath, Tony added, "And the idea of telling you I was bi and still possibly being denied—which I figured I would be—scared me. I know I should've told you, but it wasn't something I hid because I didn't trust you."

Gob looked Tony over and slowly nodded. Okay, he could understand that. "…What made you willing to tell me now?"

"Well, I figured you'd realize I wasn't straight once I kissed you?"

"Duh, I meant why did you kiss me?"

"…Seth told me you liked me as more than a friend and had for years," Tony said carefully.

"He _what_ now?" Gob asked angrily. 

"He thought I knew and had been stringing you along, so he was just trying to help you," Tony said, kind of amazed that he had immediately defended Seth. "But, as I said, I really had no idea. Anyways, he said I either needed to leave you alone so you could get over me or make a move. And, well, I didn't want you to get over me. And I didn't want to have to get over you, either. Not if we could both be…under each other."

"This isn't going to work if you prefer to be under me," Gob said. 

Tony laughed. "No, trust me. I've been thinking about how much I want to be over you in that sense since you told me about your sex problems with Gary."

The men looked at each other for a moment and then away from each other. The air was heavy with nervous energy as the two of them struggled with what to say or do next.

It was Tony who finally broke the silence. "…So, what now?" When Gob didn't respond, Tony asked, "Were you serious? About the possibly dating musicians thing if you found the right guy who happened to be interested?"

Gob hesitated. "…I was," he said slowly. "But I also didn't think that right guy was going to actually be interested. And knowing he is kind of makes me a little nervous."

"Too nervous to try?"

Gob looked over at Tony. He looked nervous himself. "When it comes to you?" Gob smiled slightly and shook his head. "Definitely not _that_ nervous." He paused before asking, "Does dating a guy make you nervous?"

Tony smiled slightly as well. "A little, but not enough to stop me."

Slowly, Tony slid his hand over to Gob's, resting it on top of his. Gob looked down at their hands and turned his over so he could hold Tony's, wrapping their fingers together. He smiled softly and looked over at Tony, a thrill running through his stomach.

He had no idea how this would go, but he was definitely more than ready to give it a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! First of all, [here's the spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1212091391/playlist/12q2Ri5nb9HHpgrlehsAdk?si=U9kfcRQtQF2KZHYETWf2vQ)! It includes the most important songs from the chapters and some mood music as well.
> 
> Anyways! I really, _really_ hope you guys liked this! I'm so sorry this took forever to get up. I kept debating if it was too soon to have them get together, but with everything I want in the next three chapters, I didn't feel like I could have them wait any longer. I hope you don't abandon it now just because they're together because, trust me, there's a lot left to go in these next chapters! Though I will say that this is probably (and hopefully) the longest chapter of the whole piece. A lot needed to happen here lol but it wouldn't make sense to try to put this off for the remaining chapters to happen.
> 
> Anyways, some other notes.
> 
> 1\. Please listen to the trio from Rosenkav, it is literally my favorite piece of classical music ever and I sob consistently and I'm waiting until I can finally do the trio myself. I literally have the music translated and highlighted in my voice binder since I was supposed to do it last year at a concert but it fell through but I WILL sing the role of Die Marschallin one day I WILL. I do also suggest listening to all of Pierrot Lunaire and Quartet for the End of Time. I've put one movement of each on the playlist, sticking with my absolute favorites...which just so happen to be the ones I had to study the most in music theory and therefore know the best...
> 
> 2\. I was a complete idiot who thought the Liszt piece I used in this chapter was one of his orchestral pieces, so I didn't even listen to it on my iTunes. Then I realized it wasn't after I had already published chapter six when the title makes it absolutely perfect for chapter 5. I kept debating changing that chapter title to this one for so many reasons, but I decided that this piece is the longest and this chapter should be the longest and it has a lot of memories of Gob's (AKA our Don Juan's) life, so...it works. Also the main quote Liszt uses from _Don Giovanni_ is this duet "Là ci darem la mano", which translates to something like, "There we will hold hands". The whole duet vaguely fits the Blunder situation at the end of being nervous but wanting to go for it, albeit Blunder is in a very different and much healthier situation. 
> 
> 3\. I, like Gob, thought "Jose Cuervo" was sung by a man growing up and had no trouble accepting that a man was wondering if he kissed all the cowboys while drunk.
> 
> 4\. Much love to [angelica_church_schuyler (AKA Lauryn the Magnificent)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_church_schuyler/pseuds/angelica_church_schuyler) for her beautiful headcanon of the Bluths loving _Star Wars_. I have never seen a Star War, but I wholeheartedly support this headcanon.
> 
> 5\. HAPPY CINCO! HAPPY FIVE! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY OF BLUNDER SEX IN CANON!!!!!!!!
> 
> 6\. If you're at all curious, I sorta realized I vaguely based Anna in my head to look like my current icon on here, AKA the wonderful [Kate Miller-Heidke](https://www.glamadelaide.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/Kate-Miller-Heidke.jpg) who is representing Australia in Eurovision and I wish I could vote so badly!!! I've been in love with her for years and she's [adorable](https://scontent-lga3-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/7ae9e1124cce04c4909f7e3ecda1d27d/5D54D35F/t51.2885-15/e35/54277415_2161445353942365_6835806350323545271_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-1.cdninstagram.com&se=8), though actually a couple inches taller than Anna lol. The height difference is basically the same as the one between [Jason Bateman and Kristen Bell](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMzRjM2FmNzItMDU5Mi00MzJhLWE4YjYtOTFlZjRmYmQ1NTczXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNTIzOTk5ODM@._V1_SY1000_SX675_AL_.jpg), who would also work as an Anna casting tbh.
> 
> 7\. Sorry I talk too much. Wow. I also wanted to say I felt bad about doing a time jump, but I needed things to line up a bit better and the s3 to s4 weirdness of Maeby and George Michael suddenly being seniors was too much for me to ignore. Hence, time jump.
> 
> ANYWAYS! Again, I hope you liked this and thank you so, so much for reading! Let me know what you think! <3


	10. Vers la flamme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Vers la flamme"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xgrZc8NW118), Op. 72  
>  By Alexander Scriabin

  **Vers la flamme (Toward the flame)**

Michael frowned as he looked into the living room from his kitchen. Really, it was the perfect turn-out to celebrate George Michael’s last night before he moved into the dorms of UCI. They had already celebrated with Michael’s parents earlier that week, so this was just supposed to be the more fun one. Michael knew his son appreciated the rather large check for a car, but, besides that, it had been rather weird and painful as his father sat on one side of the room and Gob, Anna, and Lindsay all sat on the other. Michael really didn't like being around his dad anymore, either, but he always felt like he  _had_ to be.

Anyways, the turnout was what was to be expected in a good way. George Michael was there, of course, sitting under a banner celebrating his big day; Maeby and Steve were sitting next to him on the couch; Buster had managed to find his way over and was talking eagerly to his niece and nephew; and, of course, Gob was there. He was there a lot, after all.

Or, well, at least he used to be back when they were at the model home. But in the month and a half since Anna, Michael, and George Michael moved into their new place, Gob hadn’t stopped by much.

But Michael wasn’t frowning at that. Obviously not. He was frowning at the short man Gob had wrapped an arm around.

 _Tony Wonder_. Despite the fact Gob had been dating him since the _Quartet for the End of Time_ concert, Michael didn’t like the guy. He still wasn’t sure he believed Tony didn’t know about Gob’s feelings for him. He wasn’t sure he liked how much Gob was basically completely whipped by him. He wasn’t sure he trusted him. And it was frustrating that no one else seemed to feel the same way as him. Not Lindsay, not Anna, and, god, even  _Seth_  had given his blessing! Michael had thought Seth of all people would understand how bad this was, since Seth had to know just how much Tony had hurt Gob.

Anna noticed his frown and ran a hand over his arm. “What’s wrong?” she asked when he turned around to look at her. She lowered her voice and asked, “Is it about Tony? _Still_?”

“No.” Anna raised an eyebrow and Michael sighed. “I don’t trust him,” he said quietly.

Anna sighed herself. She had no interest in having yet another conversation over whether Tony had truly been that oblivious or not. She was actually pretty sure Michael wasn’t particularly upset about _that_ point, but that there had been something else bugging him about the whole thing.

But, again, she was tired of the discussion.

“Let’s just focus on making tonight special for George Michael,” Anna said, moving her arms to wrap around his shoulders. “I want him to have a great last night here before you move him to his dorm tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Michael said with a nod. But, then again, he didn’t like thinking about _that_ either. “…I’m going to miss him,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Anna said quietly. She was going to miss him, too. It was impossible to _not_ bond with the son of the man you were dating for over two years, especially a sweet one like George Michael. They really had started to become a family, after all. “But he’s going to be close at least. Close enough he could visit whenever he wants to do his laundry.” Michael laughed a little and nodded again. “And just think,” she whispered, a little smirk on her lips, “we’ll have this place to ourselves. Just the two of us, all alone. You know, Tiffany style?”

Michael grinned at the reference to the song they both had a habit of quoting whenever the managed to be alone. Which was happening more and more often. It was kind of weird, because the place, while having more bedrooms, wasn’t quite as spaced out as the model home was. But with only three occupants, one of whom had spent the last month working as much as possible for extra cash, it kinda made sense that they had been alone more.

…They had maybe even been alone enough to christen rooms besides their own, something Michael hadn’t done in _years_. “I _do_ like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?” Anna smiled and added, “I also had another idea that might cheer you up.” Michael raised his eyebrows and she suggested, “What about some retail therapy?”

“…That’s really more of a Lindsay thing.”

Anna placed a hand over Michael's chest and whispered, “I was thinking you might want to meet another type of Tiffany. And see if _that_ Tiffany has a ring.”

It took a moment, but when that started to sink in, Michael’s face lit up. “Really?”

“I think we’re ready. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. I think so,” Michael said. “Do you…do you wanna find it together?”

“I trust you to find something I’ll like and plan a proposal we’ll both love,” Anna said. “And, much like my shoe size, my ring size is five and a half.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and started to leave, but he pulled her back to give her a kiss on the lips.

She raised an eyebrow at him and said, “I told you I wasn’t feeling well, so it’s on _you_ if you get sick.”

“Bluths don’t get sick,” Michael said. “It’s one of the few good things about being one. That and the ability to drive in a straight line no matter how much alcohol we’ve had.”

As they walked into the living room, Anna teased, “I always thought one of the few good things about being a Bluth was knowing the ‘secret’ dance to ‘Material Girl.’” She had seen it performed by Michael and all his siblings a couple of times over the years since she moved out. It was adorable, at least to her, that they held onto something they had invented years ago, as simple as the dance was.

Gob, having heard her teasing, said, “You’re just jealous you aren’t officially a Bluth so you can’t do it.”

“You mean I can’t step twice to the right, twice to the left, right, left, sunset arms?” Anna asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gob frowned, “Not until your wedding.” Buster nodded in agreement. Anna just snorted and sat down. “You’re either a Bluth by birth, blood, or marriage/some sort of major commitment. Including making a child together.”

“…So, Eve’s a Bluth?” Anna asked.

Gob thought about it. “…Kinda, yeah. And obviously Steve’s one.” Steve grinned and nodded his head at that.

“Is Aria a Bluth?” Tony asked. Gob looked at him. “You have a commitment to her as her godfather, so does that count?”

“…Yeah, I guess.” With a snort, Gob said, “I bet Christopher would _love_ that.”

“Yeah, I think he already agreed to it,” Tony said.

Gob thought about it again and laughed. “Sucks for him.” Tony just smiled and shook his head.

“I don’t know; I think Anna’s a Bluth at this point,” Maeby said. “She’s been involved with enough family drama.”

Gob nodded. “Possibly. There _are_ some other things that make you a Bluth…”

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Michael got up to answer it, and soon Lindsay came in, a tense look on her face as Michael followed her.

“Tequila?” Lindsay asked. Once Lindsay found it, she opened it and took a ridiculously large gulp. Well, a ridiculously large gulp for non-Bluth family members.

 _"Such_ a Bluth greeting,” Gob said.

Lindsay shook her head and lowered the bottle. “Not a Bluth greeting. Because _I’m_ not a Bluth.”

Michael said, “I thought you changed your name back after the divorce—”

“I _did_. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not a Bluth.”

Michael sighed. “I don’t know what mom did this time, but you’re still a Bluth, even if she—”

“I’m _adopted_!”

Again, everyone fell silent and Lindsay had another gulp of tequila. “But…but we’re twins,” Michael said.

“Apparently not!” Lindsay exclaimed. “I went to the Sitwells today and he informed me that he had wanted to adopt me, but mom and dad did it instead. Called me ‘Nellie’. That was my birth name, apparently. _Nellie._ What kind of fucking name is _that_?”

“…That…” Michael started connecting dots in his head. N. Bluth, the picture of him as a baby with someone labeled as _Nellie…_

“But, no,” Michael said, shaking his head. “Nellie…that girl had to be _years_ older than me.”

Lindsay let out a distressed groan. “That’s the worst part! I’m…I’m…I’m the oldest of us!”

“No, _I’m_ the oldest,” Gob said, not following.

Lindsay shook her head. “I’m…” she took a sip of the tequila before continuing, “I’m _forty-two fucking years old_. Nearly forty-three!”

Anna had a funny look on her face. “Oh god.”

“Right? It’s so terrible,” Lindsay said. “I can’t believe I’ve lost _years_ of my life! I’m already _over_ fucking _forty_.”

Anna brought a hand to her mouth with a slight gasp.

“I _know_!”

Michael looked at Anna with concern. “Are you okay?”

Lindsay scoffed. “Does it _look_ like I’m okay, Michael? I’m an unmarried woman over forty! What chances do I have?”

Anna shook her head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Lindsay replied.

Anna ran out of the room, apparently just making it to the kitchen sink before throwing up. Michael looked between his struggling sister and towards the kitchen where his struggling soon-to-be-fiancée was. Lindsay looked at her twin—“twin”—and sighed. “Go check on her."

“I’ll be right back,” Michael said before running into the kitchen as they heard Anna throw up again.

“Huh…Maeby’s right; I think Anna  _is_ officially an honorary Bluth,” Gob said. “I mean, it’s not a Bluth party until someone either bursts into tears, sets something on fire, or throws up. Preferably all three.” He looked at Lindsay and said, “Right, Linds?”

For a moment, Lindsay smiled and was about to agree, but then a frown took over her face again. “I don’t know, Gob. I’m not a Bluth anymore. I guess I never was.”

“…Oh. Right.”

Tony looked around the still stunned room. While he was sure his opinion wasn’t really wanted, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Well, you were still raised as one. That counts.”

After a moment, Gob nodded. “Yeah! You still were raised by mom and dad, so that makes you a Bluth. I mean, Buster’s still one and he was raised by his uncle, technically!”

“I forgot how messed up your family is,” Tony said as Buster frowned and ran his hand over his hook.

Gob shrugged. “You should get used to it; you’ll be dealing with them a lot.” Suddenly, he smiled at the idea of Tony really being a part of it like Anna was. Tony smiled back at him, but Lindsay rolled her eyes.

“Can you _not_ turn my thing into some romantic, cutesy thing for your relationship? _Please_?” Lindsay asked.

Before they could respond, Michael came back in. “How’s Anna?” George Michael asked, since that was about the only situation he felt like he could handle.

“She’s feeling better—” He was cut off with the sound of her vomiting again. He made a face and sighed. “She hasn’t been feeling good lately, but she wants some privacy right now. She’ll be fine.”

Michael ran a hand over his face and looked back at Lindsay. “Wait, so…you’re _sure_ about this? It wasn’t just some confusion?”

“Mom confirmed it. I saw the birth certificate and everything,” Lindsay said. “And, sadly, it all kinda makes sense, doesn’t it? Why everyone thought Gob and I were twins growing up? It’s why I was always so much more developed than you and, like, _everyone_ in our grade.”

Gob scratched his head. “Huh. I remember asking mom why you could talk when Michael couldn’t and she said that girls grew up faster than boys did. I just assumed Michael was stupid or something.”

“You seriously never suspected _anything_?” Lindsay asked Gob.

“Well, you didn’t, either, did you?” Gob fired back.

“I was obviously trying to block out those memories! You’d think _you’d_ notice!”

“Hey, I was busy with other stuff when you showed up!”

“…What were you busy with? You were, like, two when Michael was born,” Lindsay said.

“I was, like, _three_ when you got there. Girls have to be at the hospital longer when they’re born, so you didn’t show up until sometime after Michael did,” Gob said like it was obvious. He could remember that just _barely_ , how he suddenly had a sister out of nowhere after Michael had been around for months. “You know? Because they grow so fast, they need a doctor to watch them? That’s why I was so confused that you decided to give birth to Maeby outside of a hospital.”

Everyone stared at him for a moment and Michael said, “Give him a second.”

Slowly, Gob started to understand what had happened there. “ _Oh_ …girls really don’t need to be in the hospital longer, do they?”

“No,” Tony said quietly, patting Gob’s shoulder. “But you were a toddler. Of course you believed whatever your mom said.”

“Right,” Michael said dismissively. He had bigger things to worry about than why his toddler brother hadn’t understood what was happening. He turned back to Lindsay, still processing everything. “So, we’re not just not _twins_ , but we aren’t even related?” Michael asked.

“Apparently not,” Lindsay said tightly.

“So…” Maeby pointed between herself and George Michael, “So, that means _we’re_ not related?” She then pointed between herself and Steve, “And _we’re_ not related?”

“I guess so.”

The three cousins—well, the two cousins and the not-cousin, apparently—looked at each other. After a moment, they all laughed. “Oh, thank _god_ ,” George Michael said with a huge sense of relief, like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Well, _that_ was a freebie,” Maeby said. “I’ve gone from two of the guys I’ve made out with being my cousins to just being two random dudes!” She and Steve high-fived, not noticing the disturbed and confused faces from the adults around her.

“…What was that now?” Gob asked.

George Michael immediately stopped smiling as his eyes widened, but Maeby just shrugged. “Steve Holt was an accident; it’s not like I thought my gay uncle had a kid who went to school with me,” Maeby said in her defense.

“Right,” Steve agreed, looking a little embarrassed himself.

“…But you and George Michael…?” Gob asked, since apparently Lindsay and Michael were too stunned to speak.

“I don’t remember. I think we were trying to teach you guys a lesson?” Maeby looked a George Michael. “Was that it?”

George Michael feigned an interest in the plate he had in his lap. “…Something like that. For never seeing each other…” He cleared his throat awkwardly as Maeby nodded.

“Right, yeah. At least for the first time,” Maeby said. George Michael bowed his head further. In the stunned silence, they could hear Anna throwing up yet again.

Michael looked like how Anna sounded. “…I don’t feel so good.” He took a breath as if he was going to say something else before just shaking his head and going back to the kitchen. Whether he was checking on Anna or thought he was about to throw up himself wasn’t clear.

Gob looked around the room. Buster looked like he was still confused and trying to understand what had happened. Lindsay was gulping down more tequila. Steve was looking between George Michael and Maeby in confusion. George Michael still had his head bowed in shame, but Maeby was nonchalantly eating cake.

Gob turned to Tony, who looked shocked and a bit confused himself. With a shrug, Gob said, “This is still one of the better Bluth parties.”

* * *

It had been a while since Gob had an unexpected visitor at his house. That was why he was a little surprised when he heard a knock on his door a week or so after George Michael’s farewell party. “The door’s open!” Gob called out.

“You know, you really should lock it.”

Gob rolled his eyes and turned around on his piano bench. “It’s fine, _Michael_ ,” Gob said, rolling his eyes. “So? What’s up?”

Michael grinned and pulled a small, black box from his pocket. He handed it to Gob and Gob opened it to find a diamond ring.

For a moment, Gob just stared at it, a lot of thoughts and emotions crashing into his head at once. Finally, he looked up at his brother and said, “You realize _Lindsay's_ the one not related to us, right? We’re still brothers, so this is kinda illegal—”

“Shut up,” Michael said, rolling his eyes and taking the ring back. “It’s for Anna.”

“She told you she was ready?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, smiling brightly. “She told me to pick it out and I get to decide how to do it, but she’s ready. And I’m ready. We’re both ready.”

“Well, congrats, man,” Gob said, genuinely happy for his brother. “When are you gonna ask?”

Before Michael could answer, Gob’s front door opened again, and Gob perked up even more when he saw Tony walk in.

Gob _really_ needed to lock that door.

“Hey!” Gob greeted him excitedly.

“Hey,” Tony said back, smiling just as much as Gob was as he handed him a coffee. “Your iced latté—I had them add some sugar just for you.”

“Thanks,” Gob said, his smile only growing as Tony kissed his cheek in greeting.

“And an Americano for me,” Tony said before taking a sip. “Hey, Michael. Sorry, if I had known you were coming I would’ve gotten you something, too.”

“It’s fine,” Michael said, his jaw tense even as he tried to smile at his brother’s boyfriend.

Gob had a sip of his drink and then looked back at Tony, “Michael’s gonna propose to Anna! He was just telling me when he was gonna do it.”

“Really? Congrats!”

“Show him the ring, Mikey!”

Michael, out of obligation to his brother, showed Tony the ring, thanking him when Tony said it was a good choice. “She just told me her size and let me choose. I hope she likes it.”

“Has she ever said what she would want?”

“I know gold for sure and diamond because it’s her birthstone,” Michael said. “April 30th.”

“So, she’s a Taurus,” Tony said after a moment of thought. “Totally fitting.”

“And Mike’s a Capricorn,” Gob said.

“That _totally_ makes sense. And Taurus/Capricorn is a great match,” Tony said.

At Michael’s eye roll, Gob frowned. “Hey, celebrate the fact that you can actually know what your sign is.”

“You’re _totally_ a Cancer, Gob,” Tony said.

“That’s what Lindsay always says,” Gob said. He frowned and continued, “I guess I don’t know what _her_ real sign is anymore.”

Michael sighed. “Yeah…” He didn’t even know what to say to her anymore about the subject. They had talked about it more that night, but Lindsay had ended up getting so drunk that Michael wasn’t sure she remembered anything they had said. The next day, she said she just wanted some space and Michael had no idea what to do besides give her that. How was he supposed to comfort his twin when she wasn’t even his twin? He knew the lie they’d been told obviously affected her a _lot_ more than it affected him, but it still kinda messed with him, too. How could it not when he’d grown up believing they’d shared a womb and everything?

Gob sighed as well and Tony nodded. “Yeah…I mean, it kinda makes sense, though.” At Michael’s glare, he clarified, “It doesn’t make sense why your parents would lie about that, especially about her age and everything, but, like…you guys never really came across as twins to me. Not after growing up with my twin siblings.” After a beat, he mused, “Well, it’s also possible they’re just their own brand of freaks.”

Gob’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean? Pip seemed normal enough when I met her.”

Tony shook his head. “It’s the twins _together_ that’s weird as fuck. They basically have their own language.”

Okay, Michael _had_ thought he and Lindsay weren’t very twin-like a couple of times growing up, so he thought Tony had a point. Still, he didn’t particularly like hearing that from _him_ of all people. Michael rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Anyways,” Michael said, “I’m asking Anna next Friday. It’s our anniversary.”

“But you got together in, like…March or something,” Gob said. He couldn’t remember the actual month or anything, but that sounded right.

“It’s the anniversary of the first time we said we loved each other,” Michael said with a sheepish smile. “I thought that’d be a good time to ask, even if it means she sees it coming.”

“She’ll see it coming no matter what, so why not?” Tony said.

“Oh, we have a meeting that day,” Gob said excitedly. “One of my old piano students has gone all Hollywood and wants me to help with some songwriting, I guess. And, you know Anna, we’re gonna get a good deal, so she’s gonna be _extra_ happy that day.” He laughed and added, “You know, as long as she doesn’t throw up again.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t tease her too much about that, please? She’s _still_ embarrassed; she almost killed her assistant for getting her sick.”

“Is she feeling better?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. I just hope I don’t get whatever she had,” Michael said. “I’m nervous enough as is.”

Gob snorted. “Don’t be. She’s gonna say yes.”

“I know. I just want to get it completely right."

Gob rolled his eyes. “You two are such _perfectionists_. All the timelines and everything? So dumb. I don’t even get why you guys waited this long in the first place when you’ve been discussing it for _years_.”

“We wanted to make sure we were in the best place for it,” Michael insisted. “Now with George Michael away in college—”

“And away from his cousin,” Gob said with a snicker. After some time away from the reveal, he just found it funny versus disturbing that his nephew and not-niece made out a few times.

Ignoring Gob, Michael continued, “With him away, it gives us time to focus on us, but he’s still close enough that he’s, you know, a part of all of it.” After a moment, Michael admitted, “It was a lot of her own decision, but I’m glad we’ve waited.” Normally he would’ve told Gob with how fast everything happened with Tracey, he thought it was good they moved at a slower pace. But with Tony there, he didn’t feel like discussing that matter. Even if he _did_ like Tony, he wouldn’t particularly want to tell him that information. Tony knew too much about their family anyways.

“Well, you’ll have to tell us when/if she says ‘yes’,” Tony said.

“Or tell me, at least. Then I’ll tell Tony,” Gob said brightly. He smiled at his boyfriend and said boyfriend smiled back. Neither of them noticed Michael’s narrowed eyes or tense jaw.

* * *

“You feeling okay?” Gob asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Anna asked.

Gob raised an eyebrow. “Because last time I saw you, you ran into your kitchen and threw up multiple times?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anna said, looking at her hair in her compact mirror. As she adjusted her business bun, Gob snorted. Of course she was going to pretend it didn’t happen, even though everyone had heard everything. “Regardless, it’s been weeks since we last saw each other, so why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“True,” Gob said. “A lot of things can change in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah…” Her eyes drifted off to the side, her mind apparently leaving the conversation.

“What?”

Anna blinked out of her daze and asked, “What?”

Gob’s eyebrows pressed together. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can put this meeting off if you’re still feeling sick.”

“No,” Anna said. “No, I’m not sick. We’re doing this _now_.” She cleared her throat and went back to checking her makeup before closing her compact.

As Anna kept getting ready, Gob spun around in the spinning chair her office had in the meeting room. He didn’t really like attending these meetings. They were rather long and boring for the most part, and he often didn’t really have to do anything but watch.

Normally he already would’ve been thinking about the plans he had with Tony later or a new piece he was working on or literally anything else, but Anna was distracting him. Maybe it was weird that she was distracting him, seeing as she was doing less than she normally did before meetings. But, then again, that was the _weird_ part. Anna normally did power poses before big business meetings. She’d go over talking points. She’d pull out important notes from her binder.

But Anna wasn’t doing any of that. Instead, she was messing around with the buttons on the blazer she wore over her dress. At one point, her mind seemed to drift elsewhere mid-buttoning, her fingers fastening a few buttons to the wrong space.

Okay, _really_ weird. “Anna?” Gob asked. “Do you need help with your buttons?”

She snapped out of it and looked over at Gob and then back at her blazer. “Oh, fuck.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m fine,” Anna said, shaking her head as she redid her buttons correctly. “I’m just distracted. It’s been a crazy few weeks.” Gob nodded; it had definitely been weird as all get out. “…And it’s a big night tonight.”

Finally, Gob made the connection to what Michael had told him. “ _Ooohhhh_ ,” Gob said, smiling a little. “Right. Anniversary dinner with Michael, right?”

“Yeah,” Anna said. “He’s picking me up after this.”

That probably explained why she was distracted. She _would_ be the kind to freak out about a proposal even though she had more or less planned it. But before Gob could think on it anymore, Anna’s assistant came in to say their guests were there. Anna stood up straight, smoothed out her outfit, and told him to send them in, game face on.

Yet again, Gob found himself zoning out during the meeting almost as soon as he shook hands, but Anna seemed to remain focused and on fire through the whole thing. Just like usual. Everything went well from Gob’s point of view, and Anna was acting like her usual self through the whole thing.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Anna said once they finished, shaking their hands before her assistant led them back out. She handed her assistant the signed contracts and turned to the tall, glass windows that looked out towards the rest of the office, watching the people they had just met with heading away from them.

As soon as they were out of sight, Anna collapsed back into a chair and let her hair down. She ran her fingers through it and shook her head at herself. “That went _horribly_.”

Gob looked at her in confusion as she put her head in her hands. “What are you talking about? We got the deal and we got some good money.”

Anna shook her head, “I could’ve gotten you more—I _should’ve_ gotten you more.”

“Anna, that was more than I expected. Seriously,” Gob said. He knew Anna was hard on herself—she always had been, much like both Michael and George Michael—but he had never seen her beat herself up so much, especially when he really _did_ think she had done a good job.

Again, Anna shook her head, but remained silent as she kept her head in her hands. Okay, something was _clearly_ up with her. He moved in closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Is everything alright?” Gob asked softly.

After a small pause, Anna shook her head again.

Gob waited for her to say something, but she remained silent. “Come on, Anna, what’s going on?”

A small pause later, Anna quietly said, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“…What wasn’t?”

“This— _all_ of this. I…I didn’t plan on…” She finally let her hands drop as she lifted her head.

Gob’s stomach dropped. “…Do you not want Michael to…?” He didn’t know if he should finish that thought or if she really didn’t know it was coming. Was the family drama too much? Was that why she had thrown up?

Anna shook her head. “No, no, I love Michael. I mean, no, I didn’t plan on _that_ happening years ago, but I…”

“What do you mean, then?”

She looked at Gob, clearly questioning if she should tell him. Finally, she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

Gob simply stared at her for a long time, not sure how to respond at all. Once he regained his senses, he said the first thing that came to mind:

“Does Michael not know how to use a fucking condom or something?”

“This isn’t funny, Gob!”

“I didn’t say it was! This is just the second time this has happened to him—and he thought it had happened a third time, too!” 

“I _know,_ okay?” 

In a quieter voice, Gob asked, “Are you sure?”

“Doctor certified.” She stood up as she opened up the binder she took with her everywhere, the one full of various notes scribbled onto a notebook and a detailed, organized planner. She took a manila envelope out of the pocket of it and opened it, taking out what looked like an X-ray at first. “I had an ultrasound done to figure out how far I am—and to make sure after everything Michael's been through, he'd know I wasn’t messing around with him. By the way, not all of them are done in a G-rated fashion. Got to find that out first-hand, even though it turns out I’m far enough along that I didn’t need it done that way.”

Gob took the image she handed him, realizing it was a sonogram. Yeah, there was definitely a baby there with a head and everything, not just a blob like he remembered both Tracey and Lindsay proudly showing off after their first doctor’s appointments. It was kinda creepy realizing there was a little person inside of his friend, to be honest.

“And how far along is that?”

“About ten weeks. Looks like I might be spending my birthday in labor,” Anna said with fake enthusiasm. “God, I have no idea how this even _happened_.”

“I think there’s something with eggs and tubes—”

“ _Shut up_!” Anna hissed. “I _meant_ that we use protection and I wasn’t even sure I could _get_ pregnant. I’ve been told it was highly unlikely.”

“Maybe it’s just something Michael manages to do without trying,” Gob said. At Anna’s glare, he said, “Not funny, I know.”

“God.” Anna brought a hand to her forehead. “And I _know_ Michael’s going to propose tonight, so I guess I’m not having any celebratory champagne—I hope he didn’t plan on putting the ring in the glass or whatever.”

“Well, you know, you don’t _have_ to have it if you're that upset.”

Anna shook her head. “I want it. I do.” She laughed quietly and sadly. “When the doctor told me, I was so _happy._ I really thought this wouldn’t happen. But then everything started to settle in and…”

She shook her head. “I had a _plan_ for this. We’d get married in a year or two from now, depending on the availability of the venue. _Then_ we’d have a year to get used to being married, but we would start looking into adoption because it takes a while, and we could _try_ to get pregnant, but I already told him it was unlikely and now this happened and I…I don’t know what to do. I’ve never even read one of those _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ books or _anything_ about raising children. I always wanted them, but I never—I thought I had _time_.”

“30 weeks is a lot. You can read a lot in that time, can’t you?” Gob asked. He was a slow reader, but he knew Anna wasn’t.

“But I’m already so behind in _everything_. I need to make all these appointments and gain weight—even though I can barely keep anything _down_ —and do these exercises and change my diet and take vitamins and I found out _so late_ that I’m just so _nervous_ about it and stressed, but I can’t let myself get stressed because it’ll hurt the baby, which is stressing me out even _more_. And these hormones aren’t helping, either! And then this wedding and engagement—I don’t know how to deal with any of _that_ on top of this.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Gob said. “You can go elope now and then no one will know. Or get Lindsay and my mom involved and they’ll get you a full-blown wedding in a month.”

“I’ll be showing by then,” Anna said. “I’m already having trouble fitting into some of my clothes; this blazer is already so tight on my chest since _that’s_ grown a _lot_ already. And I _swear_ I have a bit of a bump already. I’m _really_ tiny, so it’s going to be obvious sooner on me since a baby has nowhere to go but out, so who knows what dress I could wear? And _god_ —I have to work so hard to be taken seriously already because I’m a woman and blonde and short, and then they’re going to see I’m pregnant and— _fuck_.” She started blinking quickly and Gob froze; he had _never_ seen her cry over all the years he knew her.

“I-I know it’s silly, but my first wedding happened so fast and it was so _simple_ and _cheap_. I was so worried about saving money then, since we had just graduated from college and everything. And I wanted—I _hoped_ this would be different. I wanted to wear something _really_ nice and choreograph our first dance and make it something _special_. And I know, I _know_ it’s dumb, I don’t _need_ that, but…but I had been planning and dreaming about all of that. And now—now if I want that, I have to wait even _longer_. Because I have to give birth and then try to lose the baby weight, if I even _can_ in the first place since a lot of women struggle with that, and then I have to make sure this child’s old enough to hopefully sit through the ceremony—but Michael’s so old fashioned he might want to just elope now so our child isn’t born out of wedlock and then I won’t even have this wedding I’ve been fantasizing about for literally _years_ now, like basically since I first moved out here and…”

Anna finally lost the battle against her emotions as tears spilled out of her eyes. “This is so _stupid!_ I know it’s just these fucking hormones, it’s so _dumb_! I don’t _need_ that wedding, I _know_ I don’t. But I had started planning everything and I j-just _wanted_ it.” She tried to calm herself but it was no use; she soon put her head back in her hands and cried and Gob stared, dumbfounded. Again, he had _never_ seen her lose her cool like that. _Gob_ was the one who had to have her calm him down after rough days, not the other way around.

After a few moments of shock, Gob finally wrapped his arms around her, honestly still weirded out as she continued to cry.

Finally, her breaths steadied themselves, but she still hid her face in her hands and in his chest. “Hey,” Gob said softly. “If you want your dream wedding, you _know_ Michael will wait for that.”

“He didn’t with Tracey,” Anna replied, her voice muffled from her hands.

Gob sighed quietly. “Anna, Michael was only twenty. He didn’t know anything but what our parents wanted from him. And Tracey’s parents wanted her to be married, too. It wasn’t just his decision. And I don’t know your parents _that_ well, but I don’t think they’d care, do you?”

It took a moment, but Anna slowly said, “…No…”

“And, even if they did, would you really listen to them?” Gob asked.

“God, no,” Anna said with a small air of laughter.

“Exactly,” Gob said. “Look, I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get married,” Gob said quietly. “You know, both legally speaking and  _personally_ speaking. But if I ever do? Yeah, I’d want a big party and a big first dance and I’d wanna look hot and have the best tux _ever_. I don’t think it’s dumb to want that.” He shrugged and continued, “I know I’m not as practical as you and Michael, but I definitely don’t see why wanting to make something so important to you as perfect as possible is stupid.

“And Michael _will_ wait for you. He’s waited this long to ask, hasn’t he?” Gob asked gently. Slowly, Anna nodded her head. “You guys are both, like, real adults now. You can do whatever you want."

After a few more moments, Anna nodded again and finally pulled away from Gob’s hug. He kept his hands on her shoulders as she finally moved her hands from her face. She wiped carefully under her eyes and sniffed a little before nodding again. “Sorry about… _that_ ,” she said, sounding a lot like her usual self. “These hormones are something else.”

“It’s okay,” Gob said. “It’s cool to see you all human or whatever.” After a moment, he added, “By the way, did you really say you want to choreograph a dance for you and Michael?” Anna nodded. “Yeah, you’re definitely going to need at _least_ a year for that.”

Anna couldn’t help but laugh a little. “My idea mainly featured me, honestly. And he’s not _that_ bad—he actually has a good sense of rhythm.” She sniffed quietly and then teased, “And he’s good at moving his hips when he wants to be. That _is_ why we’re here now.”

Gob couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that one. “Yeah, right; like Mikey’s ever been the one on top.”

Anna laughed as well, even though her eyes were still watery. “I never said _that_ was part of it.” She picked up the sonogram and sighed.

“You need to talk about this with Michael,” Gob said. He was actually proud of himself for how calm and reasonable he sounded. He was never the calm and reasonable one. _Ever_. “But I bet he’s going to be so excited about this, he’ll do whatever you want,” Gob continued. “He’s wanted another kid for so long and he loves you so much. And he’s done the parenting thing and went through Tracey’s pregnancy mostly unscarred. He can help you. I bet Lindsay has some advice, too. You’re gonna be fine.”

Anna nodded. “You’re right.” She took one of Gob’s hands and gently squeezed it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave her hand a squeeze back.

It wasn’t long after that when there was a knock on the door. Anna looked at her watch and said, “Oh, god, that’s probably him.” She quickly pulled out a compact to check on her eye make-up, put the sonogram back in its envelope, and put her blazer back on just in case.

“You’ve got this,” Gob said softly. He gave her a hug before Anna called out, “Come in!”

Sure enough, it was Michael. “Hey, Mikey. Just leaving,” he said, smiling as he passed by his brother. “Happy anniversary.” After a moment, he whispered, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Michael whispered back, obviously nervous, even as he smiled from ear-to-ear.

Gob left the room, but, instead of closing the door completely, he kept it open just barely so he could watch what happened.

What? He wanted to see his brother’s reaction.

After some small words in greeting and a kiss, Michael asked Anna, “So…ready for tonight?”

Anna paused before nodding. “Um, yeah. I’m ready…but we should talk first.”

“…Okay,” Michael said, a little confused. He followed Anna’s request for him to sit even as she remained standing.

"I, um…I wanted to tell you something…I think it's pretty exciting, but…”

“Okay.” Michael sounded nervous.

Anna opened her mouth to speak, but, after a few moments, she shook her head and handed Michael the manilla envelope. Michael opened it, a confused expression on his face, and then pulled out the sonogram.

At first, Michael looked at it blankly. Anna watched him anxiously. Finally, he looked up at her and asked, “That…that’s from you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Ye—”

Anna was cut off as Michael suddenly stood up and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off the ground in his enthusiasm. He even spun until Anna said, “Michael? Michael! Morning sickness isn’t just in the morning.”

Michael immediately put her back down, and while she looked sick for a moment, she eventually smiled again, Michael beaming as well. “God, I can’t believe…”

“Me, neither,” Anna said.

“And you…you want this?”

“I really do. Do you?

Michael nodded, his smile wide in disbelief. “I…we’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” Anna said, both of them beaming from ear-to-ear.

Gob saw Michael start to reach for his pocket. Realizing he was probably about to propose, Gob gently closed the door and left them alone, not wanting to spy on that part.

Of course, when he walked by the tall glass windows of the office, he couldn’t help but see Michael get down on one knee, an open ring box in his hand. Anna, of course, nodded in response, her eyes tearing up again as Michael slipped the ring onto her finger.

Gob walked away as Michael stood up, a smile on his face. It was good to know they were so happy. And soon he’d hopefully be asked to be a Best Man again—George Michael better not get that position seeing as Gob was the reason Michael even _knew_ Anna—and this time he actually had a guaranteed date, unlike at Michael’s first wedding.

Well, maybe it was too early to assume he and Tony would still be together, especially if they were putting it off for a while. But, then again, Gob couldn’t help but wonder _(ha)_ if he and Tony would ever have a moment like that. The proposal kind, not the pregnancy kind.

As he got in the elevator, he smiled to himself. It was nice to dream about that.

* * *

It had been about a week since Anna and Michael got engaged, and they were working on telling everyone the news. For the first time since the party, Gob got to see Lindsay in person as Anna and Michael gave her a casual update on their lives in their kitchen.

“Well, congrats again on the engagement,” Lindsay said. “And the pregnancy, I guess?”

“Thanks!” Anna said as she rummaged through the pantry. She called out to Michael, “Put Nutella on the grocery list!”

“And you’re going to wait until after the baby to actually get married?”

“Yep—oh, and marshmallows!”

“…And our mom knows about the engagement but not the pregnancy?”

“Yep—and more saltines!”

Gob laughed. “God, mom’s gonna _freak out_.”

Michael laughed as well as he added Anna’s latest request to their ever-growing grocery list. “It’s about time I did something to really piss her off, right?”

“It’s not like we’re not telling her just to piss her off, though. I want to wait until I’m through my first trimester, because then my chances of miscarrying are a lot lower. I haven’t told _my_ parents yet for that reason, _or_ my siblings, since they’d just tell my parents,” Anna said. After a pause, she poked her head out of the pantry and added, “Pissing your mom off is just an added bonus.”

“How do you think your family will react?” Gob asked.

Anna snorted and went back to looking in the pantry. “Gwen and Griffin will undoubtedly make some joke about how their ‘Little G’ is all grown up even though I’m the oldest. It’s just because they’re taller than me…” Gob could practically hear Anna roll her eyes. “Mom and dad will be happy, but my mom is so _controlling—_ pot meet kettle, I know—but, seriously, she will immediately try to tell me how I should have a natural birth and tell me how to raise my child and everything. She’ll probably even tell me what names to use.”

“Oh, have you thought of any?” Lindsay asked.

Anna finally emerged from the pantry with a peanut butter jar in hand and said, “We haven’t discussed it yet.”

“We still have a while to think about it,” Michael said.

“What about the last name?”

“I think the baby’s name should be hyphenated,” Anna said, looking at Michael. He nodded. She grabbed a spoon and took a big bite of peanut butter. “I’m so happy to be hungry again,” Anna said once she swallowed.

“God, yeah, morning sickness is a bitch,” Lindsay said with a wince. “I actually lost weight during my first trimester.” She smiled a little and said, “That with the thick pregnancy hair and the boobs, though…I looked good.”

“Oh, yeah, I read about the hair thing,” Anna said with a nod. “I never knew that was a side effect.” Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “What? I never thought I’d be pregnant, so I never really read up on it.” After taking a breath, she said, “I was actually hoping to get some advice from you. Since you’ve been through it and everything?”

“Oh…” Lindsay nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’m always here if you have questions.” She looked down and sighed before correcting herself, “Well, I’ll always be a text away, at least.” Lindsay looked back up at everyone and said, “I got a plane ticket to India. I’m going next week.”

The silence was nearly deafening until Michael asked, “How long?”

Lindsay shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. I haven’t bought a return ticket.”

“Why _India?”_ Gob asked.

“I figured I could do a whole _Eat, Pray, Love_ thing. I’ve never been encouraged to eat, though, so I thought I’d start with pray,” Lindsay said. “I’ll start there and then go where the wind takes me.”

“…That’s the most _you_ plan I’ve ever heard,” Michael commented, unable to stop himself.

Lindsay, thankfully, didn’t take offense at that. “I know, right?” she said with a smile. “I think it’s good for me to get some time away from everything, you know? I need time to process everything. It’s been such a crazy couple of years, and then the adoption stuff, I…I need to discover who I really am. And I always wanted to explore and see the world and I realized I never _did._ There’s all these things I planned on doing before I was _forty_ and now…” she shook her head. “I guess it’s time to do that now that _that_ date passed.”

“What about Maeby?” Michael asked.

“We’re flying out together, actually, since she’s shooting a movie over there. Then she’ll come home and I’ll…well, I don’t know what I’ll do next.” With a sad smile, she admitted, “She hasn’t really needed me around for a while now. And now she’s eighteen, so she really doesn’t need her mom watching her every move. Not when she’s the one who pays for the apartment.” Lindsay rolled her eyes at herself. “I’d say I need a job when I get back, but seeing as I’m even closer to retirement years than I previously thought, what’s the point?”

“You’re not _that_ close to sixty.”

Lindsay shrugged. “Still a good excuse.” She sighed and said, “But, yes, Anna, just text me if you have any questions. Or call, just know that it’ll be really expensive minutes-wise.”

“Right…” Anna said softly. She started to blink rapidly, and, in a choked-up voice, she said, “Sorry, hormones, but…I’m really going to miss you.” Michael ran a hand on her back supportively.

“Aww, Anna, I’m gonna miss you, too,” Lindsay said. “Do you want a hug?” After a moment, Anna nodded and Lindsay made her way over to give one.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. “Oh, that must be Tony,” Gob said excitedly.

“What’s he doing here?” Michael asked.

“I told him I was here since we have a date,” Gob said.

“Now _another_ client will see me cry. _Great,”_ Anna said tearfully.

“Tony has a million siblings; he can handle hormonal women. Especially if you tell him you’re pregnant.” Gob quickly went to the front door to fetch his boyfriend, Michael watching him leave with a clenched jaw.

“Be nice,” Lindsay whispered to him right before Gob came back in with Tony.

Tony took in the sight of Anna and Lindsay hugging while Michael still rubbed Anna’s back and raised his eyebrows. “…Bad timing on my part?”

“You could say that,” Michael replied with a slight edge in his voice.

“Lindsay just told us she’s going away for a while to discover herself. First in India,” Gob informed Tony. He honestly hadn’t really processed that she was going to be gone yet, so he didn’t quite get the big deal.

“Oh, wow. Well…that seems like a good idea,” Tony said honestly. “Good luck.”

Lindsay gave him a smile. “Thanks, Tony.”

Gob continued, “And Anna’s pregnant, so her hormones are making her emotional.”

“Shut up,” Anna said, finally pulling away from Lindsay. She wiped under her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Woah…um, congrats, Anna,” Tony said. “How far along are you?”

“Eleven weeks.”

“Oh, wow. Almost done with the first trimester. That’s great!” Tony said. At Lindsay’s raised eyebrows, he explained, “I have four sisters and three of them have been pregnant. Plus my mom had two pregnancies with three kids after me. I know _way_ too much about this stuff…” He turned back to Anna and asked, “So, how are you feeling? Lots of morning sickness?”

“It’s finally starting to fade,” Anna said. “Thank _god._ ” She had another bite of peanut butter.

“That’s good.”

After a moment of thought, Anna went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of mustard, pouring some onto her next spoonful. Before anyone could say anything, she said, “Hey, this is the first time I’ve actually wanted to eat in _weeks_. Give me a break.”

“God, I do _not_ miss the weird pregnancy cravings,” Lindsay said with a shiver as Anna happily ate the weird mixture. “I still can’t look at olives anymore.”

Gob tilted his head. He grabbed a spoon and said, “Let me try it.”

 _“Gob,”_ Michael and Tony sighed at the same time. He ignored them and took a spoonful of peanut butter and let Anna pour some mustard on it. Once he had a bite, he hummed happily.

“Not too bad.”

_“Right?”_

“You know what goes good with mustard?” Gob asked Anna as he fixed himself up another spoon. “Parmesan cheese.”

“You’re still doing that?” Michael asked, both him and Tony looking rather disgusted.

“I have to try that sometime,” Anna said, ignoring her fiancé. “Add parmesan to the grocery list.” While Michael still looked disgusted, he nodded and wrote it down.

Tony looked at Gob and asked, “How did you ever even come up with that combination?”

Gob shrugged. “It was always easily accessible. And Michael never let me cook for, like, years.” He added in a mutter, “You start a small fire _one time_ after trying to make flaming vodka shots…”

“It was either that or he was eating uncooked spaghetti,” Lindsay said. “He still does that, too.”

Tony gave his boyfriend an odd look. “…You know how to cook it, right?”

“Yes, but I like the crunch! Why does no one get that?” Gob said defensively, fixing another spoonful of peanut butter and mustard.

“…Well, I’m Italian, so I feel like I _should_ be offended…” Tony said slowly, “but store-bought isn’t that great, anyways. I’ll make you real spaghetti sometime. The non-crunchy kind. It’s _so_ much better.”

“I’ll give it a try, I guess.”

“You should try uncooked ramen, though,” Tony said excitedly. “Because you can flavor it with those seasoning packets and put it in a bag and just eat it as a snack all day. I had a friend who showed me that in college and it honestly changed my life.”

Anna looked at Michael. “Babe, add ramen to the list, too. Anything but chicken—chicken sounds _so_ _disgusting_ right now.” With that, Anna poured some more mustard onto another spoonful of peanut butter.

“I could give that a try, too,” Gob said with a shrug. He tried to get another bite of peanut butter, but Anna gently knocked his hand away. Then he turned to Michael and asked, “Can I be there when you tell mom?”

Michael frowned slightly. “Well…we should probably tell her at the penthouse. You know, so she has access to all of her wine and stuff after.”

"…So dad will be there. Right.”

“You can still come,” Michael said. “But, you know…it may not be as fun as you want with him there.”

“Right.”

Anna shook her head. “And that’s the _most_ I’m letting your father get involved with our child,” she said firmly. “I barely even want your _mother_ involved.”

Lindsay snorted. “Come on, Anna; we know you love her.”

“I do _not_!”

As Lindsay and Anna playfully fought about that, Gob took another spoonful of peanut butter and mustard. Then he cleared his throat and, interrupting Lindsay and Anna’s fight, he said, “I just had the best idea for how you should tell her, though. Like, once you have a real belly, hold something in front of it until—BAM! The reveal.”

Anna laughed lightly. “I kinda like that. I need to find a way to keep her on her toes since my brain’s not working as quickly right now.”

“Just have some mood swing to shut her up instead of being all smart about it,” Gob said with a shrug.

“Knowing _your_ mom, she’ll just say something about Anna being fat,” Lindsay said.

“Come on, Lindsay, she’s still _your_ mom, too,” Michael sighed.

“She literally _isn’t_ ,” Lindsay said.

“She raised you.”

“Our _nanny_ raised us.”

“…Fair enough. But you still have the shared trauma Gob and I have from her being your maternal figure. And Buster…but Buster’s in a whole different ball park.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Gob agreed at once. “You’re still our sister.” Gob tried to get more peanut butter, but Anna hit his hand harder that time. _Rude._

Lindsay crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Legally speaking, I guess.” Michael sighed and Gob looked down at his feet, feeling rather dejected. She saw her brothers’ looks and sighed. “…God, this thing is so _confusing_. It’s like all the years of therapy I did were undone in a single day.”

Gob took his spoon and tried to get another scoop of peanut butter and opened his mouth to ask Lindsay something about that. But then Anna yanked away the peanut butter with narrowed eyes. “Hey! Get your own fucking peanut butter!”

Gob’s eyes widened and he dropped his spoon as he went back over to Tony. “Jeez, okay.” Anna still glared at him while both Michael and Lindsay held back snickers.

“…Only 29-ish more weeks of that to go,” Tony whispered in Gob’s ear.

* * *

Despite everything else going on in his family, Gob was in a really,  _really_ good place. He was in a good place in his career, looking hotter than ever, and, of course, love.

Not that he had told Tony he was in love with him. Not yet. Well, okay, they sorta had said it when they got together, but they hadn’t said the actual  _words_  yet. They had just admitted they had  _feelings_  for each other. Gob was still nervous, too nervous to say how he felt to Tony. He still had lingering doubts, like, what if Tony said he wasn’t feeling the same way? What if it was too soon? Even if they had known each other for years, it wasn’t like you could just be at the “I love you” stage after a couple of months, right?

Gob didn’t know.

But, even with his lingering doubts, Gob felt like Tony  _did_  feel the same way. After all, instead of freaking out over things Gob did that normally made other people run away, he seemed to embrace them, or he’d offer small suggestions. Like the uncooked spaghetti thing, for example. He had bought Gob ramen to try that, and it turned out to be  _ridiculously_  delicious. And the homemade spaghetti thing? Gob had never had pasta that delicious.

There were other things, too, little quirks Gob had that Tony embraced. After Gob woke him up early by loudly playing piano, Tony had suggested he get a keyboard and use headphones to practice first thing in the morning. How had he never thought of that? And, instead of just listening to Gob grumble about how he should change his ringtone from that dumb “Für Elise” one he had been using for years, Tony took the phone from him and went through other options until they found one both of them liked.

However, the biggest sign that Tony felt the same was when he said, “I was talking to my mom earlier and one thing led to another and I got my dad on the phone, too and…I told them about us.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. He knew with Tony’s sexuality history that telling his parents was going to be the hardest part for him. Hell, he still hadn’t told his own parents. “How’d they take it?”

Tony scratched the back of his neck and said, “When I said that I had a boyfriend, I think they were a little surprised. Like I told you, I really don’t think they ever understood the bi thing.” He dropped his hand and smiled slightly. “But, besides that, they said they were happy I was happy. And when I told them it was you,” Tony blushed slightly and continued, “my mom said she should’ve known and that it made sense and all of this stuff…I guess I talked about you a lot to them?”

“Aw, babe, did you have a crush on me?” Gob asked. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“…We’re  _dating_. And you did, too.”

“Still embarrassing,” Gob said.

“I don’t think there’s anything embarrassing about liking you.”

Gob smiled so wide his face hurt. He ducked his head a little, slightly embarrassed by the compliment.

“And you’re cute when you do that by the way.”

" _Stoooop,_ ” Gob whined, bringing a hand to his cheek. It seriously hurt from how much he was smiling.

“Nope. Not gonna stop,” Tony said. “And, hey, shouldn’t you of all people not tell someone to stop when they’re having a good time?”

Gob didn’t think it was possible to grin even wider, but he swore that comment made him do that. “You got me there. Can’t let Freddie down like that.” He put his hands on Tony’s shoulders.

“Of course not.”

“…You know, maybe we should tell my parents. Or at least my mom.”

“About Freddie?”

“No, about us.”

Tony tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

Though Gob paused, he nodded. “Yeah. If I tell them after Anna and Michael reveal  _their_ news, I can’t look that bad by comparison. Mom  _did_ tell me to settle down.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Gob paused again, but then shook his head. “No. I want to do this alone. I don’t want you to have to meet my dad if I can help it.”

“You sure?” Tony asked. “I wouldn’t mind giving him a piece of my mind, New York City style.”

Gob couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Babe…I’ve only got, like, an inch on him and still wound up with a black eye. I don’t wanna know what would happen to you if you tried.”

“Hey, just because I’m shorter than you doesn’t mean I can’t kick his ass,” Tony insisted.

“Well, let’s not try to find out yet,” Gob said.

Tony sighed with disappointment. “Fine. But someday I’d like to punch him at least once. I’ll use my right hand to be safe—you know, better to hurt the bowing one than the fingering one.”

It had been years since Gob had dated someone who would even think about what hand to use based off of their instrument. It had been years since he had someone who he felt like this about. It had been years since he felt so happy.

So, throwing caution to the wind, Gob said, “I love you.”

Tony said, “I know.” After a beat, he laughed and said, “I love you, too. Sorry, I just always wanted to do the Han Solo thing.”

“Never apologize for a good  _Star Wars_  reference,” Gob said. “You  _know_  that Han’s my favorite.”

“Oh, I know  _that_ , too,” Tony said, bringing his hands to Gob’s waist. He cocked an eyebrow up at him and said, “I know a lot of other things that are your favorite.”

Gob raised an eyebrow back before Tony leaned up to kiss him on the lips. They had something to celebrate, after all.

* * *

“Tell us when you get there, okay?”

“I will, Uncle Gob; don’t worry,” Maeby said.

Gob nodded and, reluctantly, pulled away from their hug. “Be safe.”

“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t.”

“That’s not being safe.”

Maeby laughed and gave him one last quick hug. “I’ll send over the trailer script for you soon, okay?” She looked over at her mom and Michael and Anna, who were standing off to the side talking. “Now stop putting it off and go say goodbye to my mom.”

Gob sighed and nodded. He walked over to join Anna and his oldest siblings—Lindsay was _still_ his sister, god damn it—as Maeby stayed away to give them some privacy.

“Hey,” Lindsay said softly as he joined their little huddle.

“Hey,” Gob replied back just as softly. “…Are you sure you have to go?”

“I’m sure,” Lindsay said. She looked at her older brother—well, _younger_ brother apparently—and sighed at the dejected look on his face. “Hey. It’s not forever or anything,” she said softly. “I just need time away from everyone.”

“But even us?” Michael asked. Despite the week of preparation they had, it still felt so sudden.

“Even you,” Lindsay said. “It really isn’t because it’s _you_ guys. I just need time away from… _everything.”_ She sighed softly.

“I’ve never been on my own before,” Lindsay continued. “ _Ever_. And I don’t even mean, like, living alone, though I haven’t done that, either. I mean that I’ve always been… _tethered_ to something, you know? At least you went to college, Michael; I didn’t. I went straight from mom and dad’s to Tobias’ to the model home to Maeby’s…” She looked at Gob, “And you…you’ve lived all over the country and you’ve seen so much of the world…” Lindsay trailed off for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it all in words as clearly as possible. “So…it’s time. Time to find Lindsay. Or Nellie. Whoever I am.”

They remained in a thoughtful silence as her brothers processed what she said. Finally, Michael asked, “Do you still not know when you’ll come back?”

“I don’t know,” Lindsay admitted. “How long does it take to find yourself?”

Michael nodded, looking down at his feet. “You’re still okay with us texting, at least?”

“Of course, Michael. It just might take me some time to get back to you guys.”

She looked at her watch and then back at her brothers. “Guys, I really need to get going. You know what the security line is like.” They all nodded.

Anna hugged her first, very emotional already. “Tell us when you get there.”

“I will,” Lindsay said. She lightly teased, “You’re turning into such a mother already.”

Anna, embarrassing herself, teared up more at that as she pulled away. “Thank you.” She sniffed and wiped under her eyes. “God, I hate these hormones so much.”

“You’ll level out soon, don’t worry,” Lindsay said. Anna nodded and stepped back.

Gob went next, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too.”

They hugged for a long while and, after exchanging _I love you_ s, Gob stepped back with Anna, giving the twins privacy.

Michael tried to tease, “Why do all my siblings leave right when I’m about to have a baby?” His sad smile gave away how much he was going to miss her.

Lindsay let out a small air of laughter. “I hadn’t even thought about that. It’s eerily similar.”

“Except we could wait with Gob until his flight went off. Now security won’t allow that.”

“Yeah…9/11 really ruined goodbyes.”

The two of them stared at each other for a while. Finally, Lindsay said, “I want to know _everything_ about your kid, Michael. You need to tell me as soon as you can when Anna goes into labor. And I’ll do my best to be back for when he or she is born.”

Michael looked back up from his feet. “Promise?”

Lindsay held up her pinky, smiling sadly when Michael wrapped his around hers. “Promise,” she replied.

Gob looked to Anna as Michael and Lindsay hugged again. “She’ll be back soon, right? And, like, not just for your birth, but like, after, right? She won’t stay away forever. I mean, Michael always comes back, so his twin would, too, right? And _I_ even came back…you know, eventually.” Lindsay was a Bluth, and Bluths  _always_ came back.

Anna seemed to debate her answer for a moment. Finally she said, “Well, if she doesn’t see herself as a Bluth anymore, then I really don’t know.”

 

* * *

Gob’s plan for revealing Anna’s pregnancy to his parents turned out to be really effective.

It wasn’t how either Anna or Michael had planned on it happening, but when Anna reached the first week of her second trimester, she already had a slight bump, and scheduling issues kept them from getting over there until said bump was _definitely_ noticeable. Gob followed them up to the penthouse, and Gob watched with excitement as he waited for the reveal. And, sure enough, as soon as they were in the entryway and Anna took off the light jacket she had on, Lucille’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

She turned to Michael and commented, “You’re supposed to be the smart one, yet you can’t even figure out how to use birth control?”

“Oh, good, you’re already drunk,” Michael replied cheerily. Lucille rolled her eyes dramatically as Michael led Anna to the couch. Gob followed, Gob doing his absolute best to ignore his father as he sat on the piano bench.

“Well, I guess we can always tell wedding guests you’ve just gained some weight as long as we hurry,” Lucille said. “Or you we can say you eloped months ago since you just wanted a simple ceremony. That’s not quite as suspicious the second time around.”

“We’re not doing either of those options, mom,” Michael said.

“We’re having the baby before we get married,” Anna said. “We’ll start planning the wedding now, of course; any good venue is going to be booked at least two years in advance. And then we have a ready-made flower girl or ring bearer.”

Lucille scoffed. “Really?”

“Really,” Anna confirmed, still holding her future mother-in-law’s gaze unflinchingly.

Lucille raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips before looking at her husband. “George? Don’t you have anything to say about this?”

He opened his mouth, but Anna said, “We really don’t care what either of you have to say on the matter, but definitely not _him_ in particular.” Gob smiled to himself. Ever since their first meeting, Anna had made it clear that she had zero respect for his father to his face. “We just wanted to tell you in person, since we needed to make sure you didn’t have a heart attack or something.” She rolled her eyes at herself; that pregnancy brain stuff was totally true since she was  _way_ off her game.

Lucille kept her gaze on Anna for a moment and then looked at Gob. “Vodka tonic,” she told him. Gob nodded and got up without question and made the drink for his mom, making it a double with Bluth sized servings with enough to make his own glass. He gave one glass to his mom before sitting back down with his own.

“Exactly how far along are you?” Lucille asked Anna.

“About fifteen weeks,” Anna said.

“I see…and how long have you known? Since before the engagement?”

“Yes.”

“But we planned on getting engaged already,” Michael said. “I had the ring when she told me.”

Lucille raised an eyebrow. “So you were pretty far along when you realized?”

“…I was about ten weeks in, yes, and apparently most women find out at six,” Anna replied.

“And why did it take you that long to realize?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “If you _must_ know, my… _cycle_ hasn’t been regular my whole life and I had been told it was highly unlikely I could get pregnant. That was why Michael and I had been discussing adoption. It wasn’t until my doctor tested me that I even considered it a possibility that I was pregnant. And, before you bring it up again, yes, we _did_ use protection, but it’s not 100% effective.”

George chuckled. “Especially not when it’s a Bluth man.”

 _"Dad,”_ Michael groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead while Anna rolled her eyes and clenched her jaw.

Lucille rolled her eyes as well before looking over at her eldest son. “And why are you here? Is it just for your bartending skills?”

Gob felt his heart pound in his throat. He swallowed and said, “N-no. I wanted to tell you some big news myself.” He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on his mom as he said, “Tony and I are dating…He's my boyfriend."

After a moment, Lucille sighed, “Of course you are.” George made a disgusted sound, which Gob ignored. “Well, I’ll have to ask him some questions, but settling down is a better look for us, even if it’s… _that_ way.” Finally, she added, “And at least _you_ can’t get pregnant.”

Gob snorted. “Not for lack of trying.”

George and Michael both groaned. Buster looked extremely confused. Anna, however, couldn’t stop herself from laughing at that one, if only for Lucille’s facial response.

“Buster!” Lucille called out. “Get mother her vodka!” Buster quickly did as he was told and Lucille completely filled her glass with the liquid as she muttered something to herself that Gob couldn't hear.

He did, however, hear his dad say, “Wait, is this that Tony Wonder guy?”

Gob’s whole body tensed. That was the first time his dad had talked to him directly since the penthouse incident after he had publicly come out. Gob looked towards him and nodded. “Yeah. Tony Wonder. My boyfriend.”

George chuckled darkly and looked right at Gob. “Didn’t I tell you he was gay and just not interested?”

“Well, you were still wrong, because he’s bi _and_ he _was_ interested. He just didn’t know that _I_ was interested, so _there,_ ” Gob said, crossing his arms.

“Or he’s gotten desperate enough to date you since there aren’t any other options,” George suggested.

 _“Dad,”_ Michael said warningly. He didn’t like Tony, but he definitely didn’t need his dad talking to Gob like that.

“I just think he needs to be prepared for the future, that’s all,” George said. “No one else has wanted to stay with him; why should this Wonder guy?”

“Because he loves me,” Gob responded. “He even volunteered to come here with me, but he wanted to punch you, so I figured it wasn’t worth it.”

George snorted. “I could take some fruity little friend of yours.”

“He’s from New York, so I wouldn’t count on it,” Gob said. After finishing his glass in one gulp, he smirked as he added, “Plus he pounds _me_ very hard on the regular.”

“…I think we’ve reached our allotted time here,” Anna said, patting Michael’s leg.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. He got off the couch and helped Anna up while Gob just smirked in victory. Seeing his father’s disgusted reaction to comments like that always gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. Gob got up once Anna was standing and gave his empty glass to a nervous looking Buster.

“When he leaves you, you better not come crying to us,” George said to Gob as he started to leave.

“Since when would I come to you for anything like that?” Gob asked.

Even Michael added, “ _I_  never even come to you for that.”

Anna glared and told George, “And _this_ is why you are not coming within twenty feet of my child. _Ever._ ” She grabbed Michael’s hand and dragged him out of the penthouse without a backwards glance, Gob soon following them.

Michael and Anna got into their car, Gob tagging along to join them for dinner. As Anna and Gob talked, Michael drove and thought about what had just happened. He still didn’t trust Tony, even if those three special words had apparently been thrown into conversation. If this had happened back when Gob broke up with Gary or even once Tony and Sally had ended, he’d understand, but after all this time?

As he stopped at a traffic light, he looked back at his older brother in the rearview mirror. He didn’t want to have to see Gob fall apart again. He didn’t want to have to deal with him suffering from a broken heart.

He looked over at Anna, who rested a hand on her ever-growing baby bump and then back at the traffic light. How was he even supposed to find _time_ to fix his brother when Tony Wonder broke his heart? How could he keep his eye on Gob when he had a child on the way?

Michael tried not to think about that as the light changed to green.

And when Gob tried to go to sleep that night, he thought back on the day. He was proud of himself for telling his mom; he thought that was really,  _really_ cool of him. But, even with all of that, the words his dad said still echoed in his head. They were words that he had told himself many, many times. No one  _had_ wanted to stay with him, no one chose him, so why should Tony?

After staring up at his ceiling and thinking those same thoughts over and over, Gob finally got out of bed and hit his alcohol cabinet. Hopefully once he got more liquor in his system, he'd be able to pass out, or at least stop thinking those awful thoughts.

* * *

“Cool place,” Tony said.

“Yeah. I’m glad it’s not loud enough for ear plugs,” Gob said, even though he still had his in his pocket.

“Same,” Tony agreed, his own stored in his pocket as well. “Weird name, though.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it, but most clubs have weird names nowadays,” Gob said. “Still better than ‘The Gothic Asshole.’”

Tony nodded with a snort. “Much better. Though they _did_ have a fun Halloween party this year, though.”

Gob nodded. “Still can’t believe we didn’t win first place in that costume contest.”

“It’s all the young people who don’t appreciate David Bowie and Freddie Mercury.”

“Fucking Vanilla Ice,” Gob sighed.

“So, your Hollywood former student is here, right?”

“Yep. He should be,” Gob said. His former student had invited him out to celebrate now that he was back in town from his latest tour. Gob was pretty excited to see him again since he had been one of the first students he taught outside of Maeby and George Michael. He had been taking from Nancy, but she suggested he move over to Gob’s studio since he was so interested in pop and rock, something Gob had more experience with. Gob had always enjoyed teaching the guy, but about a year earlier he landed a TV show and moved to LA and the lessons stopped.

Gob turned around from the bar and looked around until, finally, he saw just who he was looking for. “There he is!” Gob said with excitement.

Tony looked him over. “Is he just baby-faced, or is he totally not old enough to be in a bar?”

Gob ignored the question. “Come on,” he told Tony, grabbing his hand and leading him over to the bar. “Hey! Remember me?”

His old student smiled. “Gob Bluth!” He slapped his hand in greeting. “Never could forget the man who taught me everything I know about music.”

Gob batted the compliment away with his hand. “Not all—just a lot.” He grinned and Tony nudged him. “This is my boyfriend, Tony Wonder. Tony, this is Mark Cherry.”

Mark swung his head, his floppy haircut moving with the motion, as he held his hand out to shake Tony’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Mark said politely before turning back to Gob. “You ready to get to the studio?”

“You know it,” Gob said. Honestly, he had no idea what he was going to provide Mark. Anna told him she was pretty sure the kid just wanted a familiar face around or maybe wanted some help with technique, but, either way, it was such a big monetary offer even before negotiations that it would’ve been stupid to say no.

“Well, first round’s on me to celebrate,” Mark said. “What are you drinking?”

“I can never say no to a good tequila shot.”

Mark smirked. “I like the way you think.”

And that was when Gob got to do one of the things he did best: party.

Honestly, one of the biggest disappointments of growing older was how he couldn’t throw his own parties, since he totally crushed them. Like, _totally._ He was a party machine back in high school and college, with plenty of wild, legendary stories of late nights and drunken escapades.

Of course, he rarely got drunk anymore. The last time he had been completely wasted had to be after he found out about Steve. It took a lot to get him drunk; even the Bluth Family Christmas Parties still left him more tipsy than drunk. He wasn’t some lightweight like _Michael,_ who got drunk off of, like, ten shots. Fucking pussy.

When he told Tony, Mark, and Mark’s entourage all of that, they hardly believed him. He couldn’t blame them; he knew the Bluth tolerance was ridiculously high, or at least he had been told that. So, to prove it, he gladly took some extra shots, but after a couple extra tequila shots, he spotted something much more exciting at the other end of the bar.

“Holy shit, they do flaming shots here?” Gob asked.

One of Mark’s friends, JBJ, grabbed the attention of the bartender and ordered a round of flaming shots for everyone. Tony took his with a nervous look on his face. “Is this really safe?” Tony asked Gob. Even though his words were slurring together ever so slightly, he still was concerned about someone getting set on fire.

“Says the guy who plays with fire in his shows,” Gob teased.

“Those are _planned_ pyrotechnics,” Tony mumbled.

“You blow it out before you drink it; burning it just makes it look cooler and taste different,” Gob said with an eyeroll. “Well, you _can_ drink it flaming, but you’d risk burning off your cute little beard.” In a hushed voice he added, “So, don't do that, 'cause I know I’d miss that tickling me.” Tony grinned at that and nodded.

Setting an example, Gob blew out the shot before quickly swallowing it down, letting out a loud cheer once he did. He always found those so much fun. “Can’t believe Michael banned me from doing these when we lived together.”

Tony snorted. “Michael’s no fun.”

“I know, right?”

Gob had just gotten a second flaming shot when JBJ spotted paparazzi on the other side of the bar. “Shit. The network’s gonna freak if there’s another bar picture,” Mark said, trying to cover his face.

Gob looked between Mark and the paparazzo. He smiled as an idea came to mind. "Don't worry; I'll get you out in a flash." With a wink, he left them to confront the photographer. 

"…I got a hundred dollars if you stop taking photos," Gob said. The man gave him a snooty look before going back to taking photos.

Fuck. He really thought that would work…

Gob looked back over at Mark and Tony before putting his shot on the bar. "Look—"

Gob planned on continuing, but the photographer accidentally knocked over the shot, causing the flames to land on a napkin. Gob jumped back, his eyes transfixed by the light blue flame at first as the photographer started to panic and try to get it out. He heard some girl yell "FIRE!" and, realizing it was the perfect opportunity to leave, Gob ran back over to Tony and Mark and the whole group of guys. "Let's go! Let's go!"

He helped them all escape, all of them soon crowding in the back of a limo. "Woah…nice getaway," Mark said as they all laughed. "I can't believe you made a fire just to escape."

 _"So_ wild," Tony agreed, caught up in all the excitement and _definitely_ drunk.

"…Just trying to help out," Gob said with a grin. He wrapped an arm around Tony and smiled even more at Tony's impressed look.

Eventually, Gob and Tony got out at a less crowded street near where they had parked and, still feeling stable enough himself to drive, he drove back to his place. Tony hadn't said he was going to spend the night, but Gob wasn't letting him go home alone in that state.

“You know what I love about you?” Tony said, his words still slurring.

“Mmm, what?” Gob asked, very amused by how wasted his boyfriend was.

“You know how to have _fun_ ,” Tony said, smiling drunkenly up at Gob.

Gob chuckled in agreement. “I’m pretty good at that, yeah.”

“ _Really_ good.” Tony laughed. “Like, so good that you make _me_ more fun. You make _everything_ fun. Things I never thought were fun. Like fires.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re always so happy, it makes _me_ happy,” Tony slurred. _“So_ happy.” Tony tripped, but managed to catch his balance as he stuck his arms out. Once he realized he was safe, he started laughing and Gob laughed with him before wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Come on, drunkie,” Gob said, helping him get back inside his house. He led Tony into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water. “Let’s get some water in you, okay? I’m gonna prepare the ibuprofen now so you don’t hate me too much tomorrow morning.”

Tony scoffed and insisted he was fine, but he still took the water. “I couldn’t hate you,” Tony said before he started drinking the water, chugging it down.

Gob looked at him with a smile. “Yeah?” he asked softly. Tony didn’t seem to hear him, so he just got the ibuprofen out before leading Tony to bed.

Soon enough, Tony was passed out in bed and Gob laid next to him, running a hand over his side as he just watched him breathe for a little while. He really hoped what Tony had said was true.

And he really hoped he managed to not mess this whole thing up.

* * *

“So, Mark, I gotta admit, I have no idea why you asked me to do…whatever this even is,” Gob said.

Mark laughed quietly as he sat down in one of the chairs in the recording booth. “Do you remember our very first piano lesson?”

“Vaguely.” It had been one of the very first ones Gob gave outside of his family, so he remembered being nervous as all get out and babbling.

“Well, you told me it was important to know my pop and rock history if I wanted to continue on that pathway—you know, along with getting a good technique from your classical training.” Gob nodded. “So, you ended up giving me homework to listen to all of _A Night at the Opera_ , preferably while stoned.”

Gob laughed. “Sounds like me. And probably not something I should’ve said to a kid.”

“Hey, I appreciate honesty,” Mark said with a laugh. “And that was what I loved about working with you, man. Honesty and a real passion for music of all kinds. I never would’ve known how much ‘Pachelbel’s Canon’ influenced all of music without you."

"And not always in innovative ways," Gob mumbled. [God, he hated that song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdxkVQy7QLM).

“So, anyways, I’m thinking, dude, I want to be more than just the ‘Practice Kisses’ guy. Don’t get me wrong, that song made me some _bank_ and got me lots of action,” he continued with a cocky grin. “But I wanna make more than that. I wanna make some really kickass music, show people that pop can be more than the stuff out there today, like you did when you introduced me to The Beach Boys and [‘Good Vibrations’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eab_beh07HU).”

“Also a great one to listen to while high,” Gob said sagely.

“I bet,” Mark grinned. “So, I figured I could have you here for some input, some advice, and, yeah, you’re a better pianist than me, so you can help me if the music gets complicated.”

Gob nodded. “Well…yeah, man, I’m honored you wanted to ask me. I mean, I know I’m perfect for this sort of thing, I just didn’t expect it. I know you have your pick of musicians out here.”

“Yeah, but you were always so much more fun than the guys out here,” Mark said. “So, anyways, ready to get to work?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Cool,” Mark said, standing up. “We’ll meet here at nine tomorrow.”

“…Oh. Okay, cool,” Gob said, standing back up. “Guess I’ll go…go home.”

“You can come join us for another night out if you want,” Mark said as he slipped on his jacket.

Gob raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah, man. You showed us how to party for real last night. Totally more fun than _Josh."_ Mark rolled his eyes, "I can't believe I let him into my entourage."

“Oh, yeah, that guy’s totally boring," Gob agreed, though he couldn't remember which one was Josh.

“So, yeah, you totally have an open invitation to join us whenever,” Mark said. “And your boyfriend, too, yeah. If you guys ever want a fun night on the town, just give me a call.” After a moment, he corrected, “Or maybe a text. Texting’s better.”

Gob thought about it. He _did_ like fun; it was what he was best at besides music, obviously. And the previous night _had_ been fun.

…And Tony said he loved him because he was fun…

Gob quickly pulled out his phone and texted Tony asking if he wanted another night out. And, just an hour or so later, the two of them were doing another round of flaming shots in a new club as Mark Cherry cheered them on.

He could totally get used to this.

* * *

“You really weren’t kidding about this,” Tony said to Anna as the Bluth Family Christmas Party raged on. What had started out as a rather sweet and innocent Christmas party with hot (if heavily spiked) cider and a sing-along had quickly turned into a raucous and drunk good time. Gob and Lucille were both cracking up on the piano bench. Michael was definitely tipsy as he listened to Buster discuss one of the classes he had just started to take. Maeby and George Michael had also apparently gotten into the alcohol and were talking animatedly in the corner, honestly standing a _little_  too close for two people who claimed to not have made out for years.

“I wouldn’t joke about a Bluth family party,” Anna said seriously. She and Buster were the only sober ones there. While Tony wasn’t drunk, he had consumed a glass of cider, and Bluth cider was worth at least three drinks in Anna’s book. “I guess you’re kind of lucky that your first big one is the Christmas one so you can see the maximum amount of alcohol. Most of them don't get _as_ wild; they just _really_ love Christmas.”

“Yeah. It’s not what you expect them to love, though,” Tony said. After a moment, he relented, “I guess it makes sense that _Gob_ loves Christmas. He loves so many things.”

“He does,” Anna agreed.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Tony remarked softly. “You know, how excited he gets about everything? I’m almost kinda jealous of that. I’ve never met someone who just genuinely sees fun in everything. Makes me wish I could do that, and I’ve _never_ felt like that before.”

“That’s really sweet. And cheesy.”

“I know,” Tony said, laughing at himself. _“Really_ fucking cheesy. I hate it. But I can’t hate it, too, because he makes me not hate it. I don’t get it.”

Anna nodded. “…I just wish I could be drinking right now,” she said honestly. “It’s the most enjoyable way to spend time with this family. But at least someone will be sober enough to get Michael home."

Tony looked over at Michael, who had just tossed back a glass of scotch, and nodded. “I have to admit, I’m curious what he’s like when he’s drunk.”

“I’ve only seen him drunk a couple of times myself. He may be the family lightweight, but that’s not saying much.”

“Yeah. I think I heard something about being able to drink two bottles of wine and still drive.”

Anna laughed. “Yeah. On our first date, we went to a wine bar after dinner with Gob and Lindsay. And he had already had a couple glasses of scotch and then he probably had most of the bottle of wine we split, and he still escorted me back to my hotel room like a complete gentleman.” She had a sip of water before teasingly adding, “Of course, I made sure that he didn’t _leave_ as a complete gentleman.”

Tony laughed with her. “Weird.” He looked back at Michael again and then back to Anna. Quietly, he asked, “So, speaking of Michael…he kinda hates me, right?” After Seth’s warning he had already been on the lookout for Michael’s attitude towards him, and he felt like the man wasn’t being too subtle about it, anyways. Little snide comments and frowns were thrown his way often and, yes, Michael was like that with everyone, but Tony couldn’t help but notice how many more _he_ seemed to get.

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anna said after a pause that was much too long to be genuine. Tony raised an eyebrow at her and Anna sighed. “It’s…he doesn’t _hate_ you. He’s just protective. I’m sure he’ll come around.” She sighed and shook her head.

“I guess that’s basically what Seth said,” Tony muttered. Seth had given him a warning that Michael would be the toughest person for Tony to win over, which was probably the only reason he realized Michael hated him in the first place. After all, he normally wasn't great at recognizing how people felt about him—exhibit A being the whole Gob thing. 

Tony looked at Michael again before turning back to Anna. There was no point focusing on Michael right then. Nothing was going to be solved that night. “So, you’re having a girl, right?”

After a few more minutes of small talk, Tony excused himself to get more water from the kitchen. As he turned back around from the fridge, he nearly jumped at the sight of Lucille Bluth staring at him. How the hell did she manage to sneak up on him with all that alcohol in her system? And how did she look so put together for that matter?

And, _fuck_ , why was this family so mutated that even _she_ was taller than him?

“So…” Lucille said, looking Tony over with a piercing gaze. “I figured it’s time we acquaint ourselves further now that you and Gob are… _friends.”_

Tony couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her. “You mean now that we’re _boyfriends_?”

Lucille simply ignored him and asked, “You’re Jewish?”

That was quite the way to start, but Tony wasn’t _that_ surprised, not really. “Yes, but I don’t really practice anymore past a few holidays.

Lucille nodded. “Any kids?”

“No. Just a ton of nieces and nephews.”

“How many siblings?”

“Five. I’m in the middle.”

She nodded and looked him up and down again. “…And what are your intentions with him?”

 _That_ question surprised him. “What do you mean?”

“Gob says this is a long term relationship. It’s not a fling or anything. Do you agree with that?”

Tony nodded, but also said, “Y-yes. I love your son; I really do. I want to be with him for…” he took a deep breath and said, “for as long as he’ll have me, I guess.”

Lucille looked like she was thinking that over, her eyes slightly narrowed and her lips pursed as she looked Tony over. “Well. I guess one could say my son has a type. I can’t say I understand it, but I guess we just have different aesthetic standards. That much is obvious in his questionable music and outfit choices alone.”

Tony scoffed. “I don’t think you’re allowed to judge Gob for finding me attractive seeing as you’re _still_ with that husband of yours.”

For a moment, Tony thought he had really blown it and crossed a line with his boyfriend’s mother. But after a moment, her lips tightened into the slightest hint of a smile and she gave him a nod that Tony was pretty sure meant she approved of him. “A little feisty, aren’t you? Emphasis on ‘little’.” Tony rolled his eyes, but she laughed at her own pun. “I have to say that you’re better than Gob’s previous _friends…_ Not that that’s saying much.” And, with that, Lucille left the kitchen.

Tony found himself straightening up his posture and smiling to himself. He took a moment to congratulate himself for apparently winning her over—and, okay, he had gotten over his hatred for Seth, but he felt very proud of her approving of _him_ over  _Seth_ , since he was sure no one else did—before going to the living room. He made his way towards the piano, placing his hand on Gob’s shoulder once he got there. Gob looked up at him and beamed, just making Tony smile more. Gob moved over on the bench so Tony would have room.

“You wanna play something?” Gob asked. “I still think you do a great ‘Heart and Souls’.”

Tony laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. You can play something, though. I love hearing you play.”

“I’m good at that,” Gob said with a big grin and a nod. He cleared his throat and looked at the keys for a moment. Much to Tony’s amusement, he started to play “Chanukah, Oh Chanukah!” as he said he didn’t want Tony to feel left out.

“Thank you,” Tony laughed. After a verse of that, Gob switched to playing “O Holy Night”, and Tony just listened as he tilted his head. He always thought that was the most beautiful Christmas song.

He was so focused on Gob’s playing that he jumped in surprise as he felt a hand rub his shoulder. “ _Heeeeeeeey_ big brother’s boyfriend.”

“Buster! Hey!” Tony said, turning to face him with a big smile that was only slightly forced, if only to get Buster off his back.

Gob stopped playing and said, “Hey, Buster, remember what we talked about? You can just call him Tony.”

“Oh, right, right,” Buster said, nodding to himself. “Sorry, I’m just trying to be inclusive.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Tony said, his eyes trying and failing from looking at anything but the bejeweled hook he had in place of a left hand. He still hadn’t gotten used to that.

Buster opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then Gob went back to playing, that time playing the celesta part to “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy”. Buster smiled at his older brother and sat down on the floor, looking up at him with wide, appreciative eyes. Gob gave Tony a look at that, obviously choosing a song that would shut up his brother.

“He loves this song because he loves _[Fantasia](https://youtu.be/inesNeqZuK0?t=47)_ ,” Gob whispered to Tony. After a moment, he added, “And I do, too.”

“Of course.” Honestly, all Tony wanted to do right then was kiss him since he was just so _adorable_ , but he knew how Gob wasn’t comfortable with PDA, at least where his mom was concerned. So, Tony settled on just watching him with a smile.

Eventually, Gob transitioned into [“Christmas Time is Here”](https://youtu.be/UQHEfa1amv8?t=102), and Tony frowned slightly. He always found that song rather sad and melancholy, which just didn’t seem like Gob’s personality when it came to Christmas music. In fact, Gob looked a bit melancholy himself as he played it.

“…This is one of Lindsay’s favorites,” Gob said quietly as he played.

 _Oh._ Tony carefully put a hand on Gob’s knee. “I’m sorry, Gobie.”

“I just thought she’d be back by now…” As much fun as he had been having, the realization that Lindsay was really, truly gone had started to sink in. There was no Lindsay to suggest body shots, like she tried to every year despite them all being family. There was no Lindsay to reminiscence fondly with about that Christmas where they all accidentally got high on Uncle Oscar’s cookies before suggesting they get high again. There was no Lindsay to join in on the sing-along, since she was the only other person who knew all the words to the classics besides their mom. And there was no Lindsay to insist they watch _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ after they were all forced to watch _White Christmas_ at their mom's insistence and the Claymation specials Buster loved so much.

Tony gave him a sad smile. “I know.” Gob continued to play, a sad look on his face that honestly broke Tony’s heart.

God, Gob was _really_ turning him into some sappy bitch, wasn’t he?

Now Tony…Tony wasn’t the best with comforting people. He wanted to be, at least with Gob, but he didn’t always say the right thing. And right then, all he could think of to say was, “I wish I could help.” After a moment, he said, “I don’t want you to be sad on Christmas. You were so excited about this. So happy…”

At that, Gob looked quickly in Tony’s direction and then back at the piano, his fingers pausing on a half-cadence, not completing the song by resolving the chord as he thought.

Tony wanted him to be happy. Tony wanted him to show him a good time. That was what Gob did _best._ That and piano, those were the things he was meant to do. He couldn’t let himself be sad, not in front of Tony, not if he wanted to keep him…

“You’re right,” Gob said, putting on a smile as he finally resolved the chord. He looked over at Tony and said, “I need to help myself to a bit more of that punch, huh?”

And while Tony wasn’t sure what just happened, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. Gob had a very contagious smile, after all.

* * *

Tony was well aware that Michael wasn’t his biggest fan, but he was pretty sure Gob didn’t realize that. That much was clear when Gob invited him to Michael’s birthday party. Tony had tried to get out of it, since he was sure Michael wouldn’t want him there, but Gob didn’t seem to get the hint.

Ultimately, Tony agreed to go, if only to hopefully win Michael over some more. And, after doing some minor investigating—okay, it was less Sherlock Holmes and more Tony just asking Gob questions—Tony came up with a perfect item to bring as a present.

"I made cookies," Tony announced as he and Gob entered Michael and Anna's place.

Anna said, “Ooo! Gob says you make the best cookies.”

“I do,” Tony said simply as he put the plate on the coffee table.

“I don’t like oatmeal raisin,” Michael said immediately.

“So I’ve heard,” Tony said. “But these aren’t oatmeal raisin. I think you’ll like them.” He tore the saran wrap off and proudly showed them off. Michael and Anna looked at them curiously; they looked like chocolate chip cookies, but instead of chocolate chips, there were bright splats of color.

“They’re candy bean cookies!” Gob said excitedly. “Tony’s idea and his own recipe. They’re really good!”

“That’s perfect! Michael loves jelly beans.” (Anna was a normal person and was going to call the candies by their normal name, thank you very much.) Anna looked at Michael and nudged him. “That was really nice of him, wasn’t it?”

Michael looked between the cookies he actually  _really_ wanted to try and the guy who made them. Finally he nodded and smiled. “Thanks. I’ll definitely try one later.” Tony smiled back since, hey, at least it was a step in the right direction, as minor as it was.

At least the rest of the night started to prove that most everyone else seemed to accept him as Gob’s boyfriend. Buster could never hate anyone, of course; Anna loved having another non-Bluth with her and had always liked him at least as a client; and Maeby enjoyed making jokes with him, many of them about Michael. Apparently Michael got teased a lot.

And even George Michael seemed open to him. That night they even started talking about colleges and bonded over the weird UC quarter system that had them start and end their school years so much later than their peers.

“Yeah, it really affected some of the summer programs I could do during my master degree,” Tony said.

“Oh, yeah, I bet,” George Michael agreed. “UCI has a sister campus in Spain, though, so I hope I can go there my junior year.” He shot a look at his dad, who was talking with Gob and then turned back to Tony. In a hushed voice, he admitted, “I’m not sure my dad will be wild about the idea. And I _do_ want to be there for my little sister, you know. I’m really excited to be a brother. I just…”

“You spending a year away isn’t going to effect your relationship with your baby sister. Not when she’s only going to be, like, _one_. Michael has to get that.”

George Michael didn’t look so sure. “It’s not even that. I…He’s always wanted to keep everyone together. Aunt Lindsay leaving really hurt him. And I think he’s the only person who even misses Pop-Pop—I mean, his dad, n-not something else.”

“…Uh, yeah, that’s what I assumed you meant,” Tony said, raising his eyebrows. After a moment, he sighed. “Look, you gotta have adventures out there, and your dad has to learn that, too. You’re allowed to leave—it’s what kids do.”

They couldn’t talk after that, because Gob loudly declared, “I don’t get why you just don’t stick to your family’s naming tradition, Anna.”

Anna and Michael both rolled their eyes. “Yes, I’ve thought about G.O. names most of my life, but I’m not sure I can keep that up in this circumstance.”

“Even if we do that, her last name is Bluth-Mitchell, so it’s still not going to be Gob,” Michael pointed out.

“It’s close enough!” Gob said excitedly. “And, even if it’s not, Georgia is so close to the family name—”

“Yeah, and it’s so close to her older brother’s name,” Anna said. “Besides, my dad likes to call me Georgia, so, yeah, it’s weird.”

Michael couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little; he liked her father's nickname for her. “Georgia Peach.”

“I feel as round as a peach right now,” Anna muttered, bringing a hand to her growing stomach. “Though I still haven’t felt her kick…”

“It takes longer for first time moms, remember?” Michael said.

“You could still name your daughter after yourself! My dad named me after him!” Gob insisted, ignoring their conversation. “And there are other G-names! Like…like Gina!”

Tony suggested, “Giulia—my mom spells it the Italian way with a ‘G’.”

“Gloria would work,” George Michael said.

Maeby added, “Or Gwenyth—she’s awful to work with, but it’s a nice name.”

"Oh, that's always disappointing to here," Buster mumbled.

“My sister goes by Gwen,” Anna said. “And her daughter’s name is Glory.” She snorted and said, “She tries to say it’s just because she likes the name, but we all know she named her after Glorfindel.” Most everyone else looked confused. “… _Lord of the Rings_? _The Silmarillion_? Did none of you guys ever read them in high school or anything?”

“I was too busy getting _laid_ in high school to read about cinnamon," Gob snorted. After a moment, he corrected, “Well, until senior year. Then I was too busy worrying about being gay to have sex until prom night.”

“Always the best way to bring a child into this world,” Maeby said with a smirk. Gob laughed with her.

Anna looked at Michael, “You read them, right, honey? After I got you that nice set for our first Christmas? Since you know how your family feels about _Star Wars_ is how my family feels about Tolkien, right?”

“Of course,” Michael said. Anna looked at him suspiciously, but she nodded.

“Galadriel!” Buster said suddenly, an active fan of the books himself. “You could name the baby that!”

“…I _do_ love her, but that would be an awful name to give a child.” She shook her head. “I think if I went fictional I’d prefer a ballet character. Like Aurora from _The Sleeping Beauty_ or something.”

“Does the girl who dances herself to death in _The Rite of Spring_ have a name?” Gob asked.

Tony shrugged. “Virgin Sacrifice, maybe?”

“Oh, I _love_ that name for a girl,” Maeby joked.

“You guys aren’t nearly as funny as you all think you are,” Anna said crossly. “But, regardless, Michael and I will decide _together_. It’s not a group decision.”

Gob opened his mouth to reply, but Michael’s phone suddenly beeped. Michael pulled it out and smiled before starting a text reply.

“Who are you texting?” Gob asked. 

“Lindsay,” Michael said simply. “She wished me a happy birthday and I told her happy sort-of-birthday and we’ve just been going back and forth.” He sighed after he sent his latest text, a frown on his face. “…It’s weird celebrating my birthday as just _mine_ and not _ours_.” He snorted and corrected, “Well, it was mostly _hers_ with a little bit of acknowledgment that it was mine. So it’s _really_ weird.”

Gob nodded. It _was_ weird, even for him. He had to stop himself from sending her a happy birthday text just because he was afraid that would end up upsetting her.

“I’m glad she seems to be doing well, at least,” Michael said.

 _“Really_ well,” Anna confirmed. “Everything I’ve heard from her sounds like this was a good thing for her to do.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. “You’ve heard from Lindsay, too?”

Anna nodded. “Oh, yeah, we’re still talking a lot. She’s been helping a lot with my questions…I’m worried I’m bothering her, but she insists it’s fine.”

"Yeah. She's honestly been more attentive to me since she's been gone than she was for most of my childhood," Maeby admitted. "I've heard more from her than I ever do from my dad anymore, except when he wants a job."

“Oh,” Gob said. Ever since she left, he had only gotten a generic _Merry Christmas_ text. He looked down at his phone, as if hoping she’d text him something out of nowhere seeing as she was texting Michael. Maybe she’d remember him and want to at least say hi?

But, of course, that didn’t happen.

Tony tilted his head slightly and put a hand on Gob’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Gob looked up suddenly and put on a smile. “Yeah, of course. Never better.”

As Michael’s birthday party went on, though, Gob kept thinking about that. Why wasn’t Lindsay texting him? Why was she texting Michael and _Anna_ but not him? Did she not miss him?

Gob did his best to push those thoughts of his mind, to remind himself that she was just busy and he could always initiate conversation instead of waiting for her to text or contact him in any way. But he didn’t want her to feel obligated to talk to him or anything; she had enough going on. It was fine. _He_ was fine.

But when Michael sent yet another text, Gob ended up following Tony into the kitchen. He suddenly felt like they should leave, go out or do _something_ —or maybe even do each other.

Yeah. That’d be fun. And Gob was all about having fun.

“This is kinda boring, huh?” Gob said.

Tony shrugged. “It’s definitely not at all like your guys’ Christmas party, but it’s fine.”

“We should get out of here.” He figured Tony would be game for that, too.

But, surprisingly, Tony said, “We should stay a bit longer.”

 _"Whyyy?”_ Gob whined quietly as he leaned back against the fridge.

“I don’t want to look rude,” Tony said. “Come on, it’s nice seeing everyone, right? It’s still _kinda_ fun.”

“I’d have more fun in my bed. On top of you,” Gob mumbled.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “On _top_ of me?”

“Riding you,” Gob clarified. Tony’s other eyebrow raised. Gob definitely hadn’t done _that_ before.

“…I can’t say I don’t wanna experience that,” Tony admitted, “but it’s gotta wait.”

Gob whined again. Tony looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was around before he stood on his toes to give Gob a kiss on the lips. When he pulled away, Gob moved his head forward to try to kiss him again, making Tony chuckle a little, both of them so wrapped up in each other they didn’t notice Michael enter the kitchen.

“God, you really _do_ want it, don’t you?” Tony teased. Gob nodded and Tony placed a hand on Gob’s hip, the other on the fridge next to Gob’s head. “Even with your family here? You’re being such a _slut_ right now,” Tony murmured, knowing just what Gob liked to hear. Gob shifted a bit and made a high sound in the back of his throat that Michael didn’t recognize, but he knew he didn't like hearing it.

“ _What_ did you just call my brother?” Michael demanded.

Tony and Gob both jumped in shock. “N-nothing,” Tony said.

“Did you just call him a _slut_?” Michael asked.

“…No?”

“You _did_ ,” Michael said, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “You know, just because my brother’s been with a _lot_ of guys—”

“Michael!”

“And, yeah, he had to take antibiotics to get rid of an STD in his throat once—”

_“Michael!”_

“—That doesn’t give you the right to call him a slut or _anything_ like that!”

“Michael, I like being called a slut!” Gob said, blushing slightly.

Tony nodded, still looking slightly terrified. “Y-yeah. I don’t just call people that out of nowhere.”

“It was foreplay.”

Michael stared for a long time. Slowly, he said, “Well…maybe don’t do that with…with your family around.” Both Gob and Tony nodded, Tony avoiding eye contact with Michael. Thankfully, Michael cleared his throat awkwardly and then left them alone again.

“…Well, _that_ was a mood killer,” Tony muttered.

Gob shrugged. “I’m still up for it if you are.” Tony raised his eyebrows at him. “If you aren’t even gonna look at my brother for the rest of the night, maybe we might as well get you out of here and into me."

“You’re really _still_ in the mood after that?”

“Yeah,” Gob said simply. He smirked and whispered, “Kinda slutty of me, huh?”

Tony looked at Gob curiously before smirking back. “ _Very_.” He ran his eyes over Gob slowly before asking, “You really wanna ride me?” Gob nodded, licking his lips slightly. Tony thought about it. Well, who knew if Gob would offer that again—the man definitely loved laying on his back more than anything else—and maybe it _would_ be better for Michael to not see him around for the rest of the night.

“Let’s go say goodbye, then,” Tony said.

 After Gob and Tony left, Michael finally took a cookie off of the plate Tony left and took a bite. “… _Fuck_ …he _does_ make good cookies,” Michael muttered to himself. He really didn't want to like any part of him.

“Yeah,” Anna agreed. “And apparently he’s really good at fucking your slutty older brother.” Michael dropped his cookie in shock and she shrugged. “Our kitchen isn’t exactly soundproof, you know; you might wanna be more careful with what you yell in there.”

* * *

Gob was always a resilient person. It was a result of some sort of Darwinian approach to his life; if he hadn’t learned to bounce back up after he got knocked down, he’d never survive. He got sad, but he always got up again. Nothing ever really kept him down.

But, still, there were times, times where it was hard to bounce back. Times where he’d have to resist the urge to just wallow, times where it seemed like he couldn’t bounce back ever again, like something was weighing heavy on him. And it seemed like things were weighing down on him right then.

It started with the realization that Lindsay was gone, like _really_ gone, like not even there for her not-birthday gone. And then it just kept going and growing, these thoughts he couldn’t stop himself from thinking, like how Lindsay obviously didn’t want to talk to him.

Lindsay had been one of the closest people he had in his life, and now she wasn’t around. She hadn’t even said anything to him beyond a Christmas greeting. She had left as soon as she realized she wasn’t related to him. And he knew, he logically knew that, yeah, Lindsay left, but it wasn’t because of _him_ —she even _said_ that to him directly. But it was hard to remember that when she was gone and hadn’t said anything more than “Merry Christmas” to him.

And if even Lindsay could leave him, who was next? Mark and his friends? That seemed highly likely, seeing as they weren’t close or anything; they just found him entertaining. Michael? God, he had no idea what he’d do if that happened, especially since that meant Anna would be gone, too.

Tony?

…That one was guaranteed in Gob’s book. He hadn’t had anyone last even half as long as Seth had; that meant he had, what, maybe another year before Tony left him?

Again, a part of him tried to remind him that things could change, things could be different, it wasn’t something he had to panic about right then. But his brain wouldn’t _shut the fuck up._ Well, not with the minimal amount of work he was doing with Mark in the studio, and certainly not by him just telling it to shut up. The partying helped it shut off some, but even that magic seemed to be fading.

That was why he had to turn back to the first thing he had learned to do to block noise from entering his head: music. And not that light pop stuff, but the real stuff, the music he made on his baby, the classical stuff, the music that kept his brain occupied so much that he couldn’t think those dark thoughts.

From the time he got up to feed the cats on Saturday until late afternoon, Gob stayed focused on one piece, practicing it, perfecting it, and memorizing it as he went along. The dark tones and tremolos and crashing chords all worked well to block the dark thoughts in his head while also helping him get them out of his system. Hopefully this time they’d actually stay out once he played them.

They were also apparently so good at blocking out the noise in his head he didn’t hear noises from outside himself, either. He didn’t hear his door open as he played, and he barely noticed hands on his shoulders as he pounded the keys. His fingers didn’t leave the piano until he finally played the last chord, beads of sweat on his forehead and, finally, his head nice and clear.

Gob breathed a sigh of relief and finally noticed that Tony was there. “Hey,” Gob said, looking up at him. “When did you get here?”

“Couple of minutes ago,” Tony said. “You really didn’t hear me?” Gob shook his head. “Oh…you know, you should probably lock your door when you practice, then.”

“But how would you get in?”

Tony shrugged. “Well…maybe we’re at the point where we can give each other our keys?”

“Oh…yeah, maybe,” Gob said. He smiled at that idea; he actually liked the sound of that.

“We don’t have to rush it or anything; I just don’t want you to leave your door unlocked if you won’t even notice people coming in. This isn’t the safest part of town.”

Gob rolled his eyes and was about to tell Tony he sounded like Michael, but then he stopped himself. He didn’t want to piss Tony off. “…No, yeah, keys are a good idea. A _great_ idea. And I’ll try to remember to lock my door.”

Tony smiled. “Great.” He looked at the piece on Gob’s piano and asked, “So, are you thinking of doing this one for a recital?”

“Maybe someday. Once I’m done with Mark’s stuff,” Gob said.

“Right…” Tony looked at the music again and then back at Gob. “Are we hanging out with him again tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Cool…” Tony said, looking concerned at the idea. He looked back at the piece of sheet music and said, “I’ve missed hearing you play classical.”

“I’ve missed playing it.”

“Yeah. And I’ve missed playing _with_ you,” Tony admitted.

“Yeah…” Gob sighed. “Once this job is done, we can start all those duets, though, right?”

“Of course. I have some great ideas. We can totally put together some programs like the Paganini one—you know, a mix of duets and solo pieces for both of us.”

Gob nodded. That sounded like a great idea.

But then he thought about working with Tony. Would working with him on top of dating him make it too difficult? Would he overwhelm him? Would it be too much Gob for him to handle? Gob tended to make things go up in flames like that the more time people spent with him.

“Yeah. Uh, maybe I can play this piece for that,” Gob said, looking back at the music. “I should work on it some more. You know, just in case.”

Tony looked confused, but he backed up. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll just listen.” He admitted, “I _do_ love hearing you play. Though that piece is very… _moody_.”

“Should be. It was written by Scriabin based on his belief that the world would end by heat death,” Gob said as he made a marking in his sheet music. “That’s why it’s called ‘towards the flame’.”

“Huh. Well, he was kinda right, wasn’t he?”

Gob nodded, not looking away from his music. “Everything dies in fire.”

Tony gave Gob a confused look. “…That was an odd way to put it—”

Gob didn’t hear him as he went back to playing his music. Tony looked at him oddly before settling down on Gob’s couch, Rocky soon getting on his lap and Staccato pressing against his legs. He scratched behind Rocky’s ears as the cat purred, something that normally calmed Tony down. But he couldn’t help but watch Gob with concern. He felt like there was something he wasn’t telling him.

* * *

After Gob’s job at the symphony had ended, he and Michael switched from having lunch together at least once a week to having dinner together. It was meant to be just the two of them, so Gob had never brought Tony with him, and normally Anna would get herself out of the house for a little while. But as she was nearing the end of her second trimester, Anna was very tired and decided to stay home. So, while she read in the living room—she seemed to constantly be reading through parenting and pregnancy blogs to prepare herself for everything possible, often times freaking out in the process—Michael and Gob ate in the kitchen.

“So, Tony and I are talking about doing some duets when I’m done with my contract with Mark,” Gob said as they ate. Michael made a noise to show that he was listening. “Yeah…so I think that’ll be fun.” Trying to joke, he added, “You know, as long as I don't annoy him _too_ much. You know, by dating him _and_ playing with him.”

Michael paused. “I guess that’s possible.” Gob looked up at him and Michael shrugged. “It’s a lot of time to spend with someone. Maybe too much time.”

Oh. Gob had really hoped Michael would ease his fears about the whole thing. “…I-I mean, yeah, I guess. But…but Clara played for Robert all the time.”

“Didn’t she tour alone a lot, too?” Michael asked.

Stupid, smart Michael who apparently had listen to Gob’s rantings about the Schumanns over the years.

“…True.” Gob shook his head. “It’s fine. I still have some time before the contract’s over. And we can’t really decide on any program until Anna is ready to get us gigs again, so we have some time.”

If they were even still together at that point.

Soon they put their dishes in the dishwasher and headed back to the living room. “Hey, Anna,” Gob greeted. Anna didn’t even look up at him, her eyes staring in horror at her computer screen.

“Anna?” Michael put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not looking at those birthing videos again, are you?” She shook her head, but her eyes remained locked on her computer screen. “…Anna, what’s wrong?”

She looked up from her laptop, her mouth slightly open. “I…no one told me…” She shook her head, her eyes starting to water.

“What? What didn’t they tell you?”

Anna started to blink fast as she tried to stop herself from crying. “No one told me my feet may not go back to _normal!_ Th-that I’ll probably always be a size bigger now and…” She started to breathe fast and Michael and Gob looked at each other, both of them rather confused about why she was freaking out about that.

“I…well, maybe they’ll go back down,” Michael tried to say comfortingly.

“But most of them don’t, so mine probably _won’t,”_ Anna insisted. “A-and replacing them is going to be s-so much money, money we can’t afford to _spend_ , not after hospital bills and all the baby things and our mortgage and our wedding, a-and they’re my _one_ indulgence and—”

“Anna, it’s fine. You’ll be _fine._ We can afford new shoes; they can’t be that expensive—”

“God, Michael, do you know _anything?”_ Anna asked dramatically. “My shoes are worth _thousands_ of dollars!”

“…Really?”

“Women’s shoes cost money!” Anna insisted. “And my collection has grown over the years, Michael!”

“Well…” Michael looked a little stunned, but he managed to pull himself together to say, “We’ll make it work, Anna. It’s going to be okay.”

“How? How are we going to make it work? When will I even have _time_ to shop for more?” Anna asked. That made her eyes grow wider as she started to panic even more.

“Oh my god. There’s not going to be any time. Any time for _anything_ . I-I have to watch her and then I go back to work and then it’s all the wedding planning, and she’s _always_ going to be there—oh my god. Oh my god, we’re n-never going to be alone again.”

“Anna, we will—”

“I shouldn’t even be worried about that,” Anna said, bringing her hands to her temples. “I’m such an _idiot_ , worrying about th-this shoe thing and if we’ll ever have sex again—”

“Anna—”

“I’m already a horrible mother, oh my god,” Anna was nearly hyperventilating, apparently having a full meltdown. “I’m worrying about shoes when she hasn’t even _kicked_ yet! Why hasn’t she moved? Wh-wh-why…” Anna became so overcome with emotions she started to cry into her hands. Michael stared, his eyes wide. Gob’s eyes were wide as he watched the scene. He had witnessed a few of Anna’s mood swings, but this one seemed to be the most unexpected, unnecessary one he had seen.

After a few moments, Michael finally stepped forward and took the laptop off her lap and moved it onto the table. “Hey, Anna,” he said as he sat next to her, “you aren’t selfish for worrying about our lives after she’s born, okay? You deserve to have the shoes you want and the time alone and everything.” Anna looked up from hands and he wiped a tear off her cheek before looking over at Gob. “Right, Gob?”

Gob nodded, his eyes still a little wide. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Just because you’re a mom doesn’t mean you can’t want things for yourself,” Michael said, turning back to Anna “And if your shoes are worth that much and you can’t fit in them, we can sell them for some extra cash—if you want to.”

“…I-I guess,” Anna said quietly. “…And I guess moving up to a six or six and a half isn’t the worst thing in the world. It can be hard to find a size five and a half, actually.” She frowned and admitted, “I’ve had to wear shoes from the kids’ section before.”

“See? That wouldn’t be so bad,” Michael said. “And we definitely have the money to invest in some shoes, okay?”

Anna nodded after a moment. “Yeah…yeah, I guess we can afford that…Especially if we get good baby shower gifts.”

“Exactly.” Michael wiped another tear off her other cheek and smiled at her. “And we’re going to have _plenty_ of time alone, don’t worry,” Michael said. Putting a hand on her stomach, he continued, “Sure, we’ll be together a lot, us three and George Michael when he’s home, but we’ll also find time for just the two of us. I promise.”

Anna looked at him doubtfully. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he said. “Tiffany style and everything.” Anna laughed slightly, but she sniffed afterwards. Trying to cheer her up, Michael quietly sang, in his slightly off-key voice, _“[I think we’re alone now…](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6Q3mHyzn78)” _ Anna laughed again, even though her eyes were still watery. Gob rolled his eyes; he still didn’t get how that became their song and he definitely didn’t like Michael singing that when he was standing right there, meaning the two of them definitely weren’t alone at all. Still, Michael continued, _“There doesn’t seem to be anyone around—”_

Michael suddenly cut himself off, both him and Anna looking at her stomach with wide eyes. “Was that—did she?” Michael asked.

Anna gaped. “I…I, yeah, I think—I think she kicked.” She looked at Michael and said, “The books say she should be able to hear voices now.”

“She was responding to me singing?”

Gob tried to joke, “Most people would want to kick something if they heard you—"

“Shut up, Gob!” Anna said without even looking at him. She told Michael, “Keep singing, keep singing!”

“Uh, I… _I think we’re alone now, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. I think we’re alone now, the beating of our hearts is the only sound…”_

"She’s kicking!” Anna brought a hand to her mouth before looking back at Gob. “She’s kicking!” Anna looked back at Michael, “She’s kicking!”

“She is!” Michael said. “So strong! We have a little ballerina!”

“Or a tap dancer!”

“Or a Rockette,” Gob said.

“And she likes our song!” Michael said, not paying attention to his brother.

“I can’t believe that’s our song. It's so dumb, I…” Anna said, laughing and crying at the same time. “We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby,” Michael repeated back, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Gob looked between the two of them. Finally, he just said, “I…I should head home. But congrats on the kicking.”

Michael looked up at him, still grinning wide. “Thanks.”

“Thanks,” Anna repeated, her face full of excitement. “We’ll see you soon.”

Gob nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” He gave them a small smile before heading out the door, hearing Michael singing more of that song as Anna laughed.

If the two of them really wanted to be alone, well, fine. He could do just that.

* * *

Gob was tired. Exhausted. Sluggish. Every word he could ever think of for "tired" fit him at the moment. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep—not that he thought sleep would happen, anyways. Despite how tired he was, his sleep schedule was still fucked up and he still was having trouble falling asleep. All these nagging thoughts and fears and anxieties kept him up all night, racing through his brain at rapid speed. He found himself trying to drown that sound out as much as possible, normally by drinking or playing or, well, partying. 

But that last one didn't seem to be working anymore, because he just felt even more tired after wild nights out on the town. No matter how much fun he had, he ended up feeling ashamed the next morning, ashamed that he was partying with people half his age, ashamed that he was in this loop, ashamed that he was even upset in the first place.

Gob had _no reason_ to be upset or stressed or anything like that. His career was going great. He was in great shape. He had an amazing boyfriend, a boyfriend he loved so much who loved him so much right back. He hadn’t found out he was years older than he thought he was. He wasn’t about to have a baby with a girlfriend who was slowly going crazy from the pregnancy process. He hadn’t lost a hand. He didn’t have school to worry about or have to deal with shallow, hard-to-work-with celebrities. He wasn't in community college trying to figure out what to do with his life.

Gob’s life was fine. Perfect, even. And he still felt bad.  _Why_ did he feel bad?

Maybe it was because people left him. But, well, who would want to stick around for a guy who just felt sorry for himself anyways?

God, his head hurt.

When Mark finally called it quits in the studio one Friday, Gob was relieved. He was definitely over the whole process of just sitting there, listening to Mark's catchy music, and trying to offer insights and advice, especially since most of it was ignored, anyways. And after a long day of a whole lot of nothing, a day that let all those thoughts fester inside his head, Gob was ready to just go home and cuddle with his cats. He'd hope to cuddle Tony, but, unfortunately, he was out of town for the weekend for a performance.

Gob missed getting to leave town for things like that.

When he tried to head home, though, Mark asked, "What? You're not joining us tonight?"

Gob hesitated. "…I have to feed my cats. They get pissed off if they don't get fed on time." JBJ laughed at that and Gob resisted the urge to glare at him.

"Well, you'll join us after, right?" Mark asked. "We're hitting up 'And Jeremy Piven' again. You wouldn't want to miss the place you nearly burned down, right?" He nudged Gob with a laugh, one that Gob tried to return.

"Right, right…um, yeah, maybe. We'll see," Gob said. "I might just stay in once I get back. I'll let you know."

"Okay, dude. Have fun at home," Mark said with a snort. 

Once Gob got home, he fed his cats and crouched down next to them to pet them. He hadn't had much time with them since he had started working with Mark, and he really missed them so much.

But, on the other hand, hanging out with them wouldn't necessarily stop those bad thoughts from resurfacing. Not the way running away from the thoughts did or drinking them away or even dancing them away.

"…What do you guys think?" Gob asked, obviously not expecting an answer. But that didn't mean that he didn't feel just the slightest bit hurt when they didn't even look his way. God, even his  _cats_ were ignoring him.

About an hour later, Gob was stepping inside "And Jeremy Piven" and was greeted with a flaming shot. 

He really needed to figure out how to do one of those at home.

* * *

Gob was used to parties. That had been established many times over his life. And after months of working with Mark, he was getting more and more used to staying out until the early hours of the morning, alcohol flooding his body as he took a taxi home in time to feed the cats, only to go back to the studio to help with Mark’s album and then repeat the whole day over again. He was exhausted, and as someone who never required much sleep, that _did_ kinda scare him, honestly—

But, okay, no, that wasn’t the point. The point was, he was good with parties. But when Anna’s sister, Gwen, called to get help to set up Anna’s baby shower, he almost refused to help. Not just because he was possibly partied out—which was another terrifying thought, since who was Gob Bluth without a party?—but because it honestly sounded super fucking lame.

Despite that, and despite the fact that Anna’s mood swings had both scared him and pissed him off depending on which way she swung, he agreed to help. Anna was still very important to him, and she deserved a good baby shower.

So, that was how he found himself in Michael and Anna’s living room towards the end of March with his mom, Maeby, Tony, Gwen, a whole bunch of Anna’s friends, a surprised Anna, and Anna’s mom, who was on spring break from Oberlin. 

“So, that’s really her mom, huh?” Maeby asked Gob at one point.

Gob nodded, having met her a few times in New York. “Yep. That’s Gio.”

Tony looked her over. “She’s not even Italian, is she?”

“I don’t think so. Or else she’d probably pronounce it right. Or maybe it’s supposed to be like the initial thing they all have. You know, G.O.”

Tony nodded. “She’s…not what I expected from someone related to Anna.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Gio looked a lot like some stereotypical high school theater teacher mixed with a hippie due to her flowing scarves and beaded necklaces and wild, curly hair. Whereas Anna had done her best to look put together and polished even though she was on her maternity leave and almost in her last month of pregnancy, Gio kept her long hair rather unkempt and wore minimal make-up. If it wasn’t for their nose and hair color, it would be hard to assume they were related. Gio even had a few inches of height on her daughter, which was only emphasized since Anna wasn’t wearing heels anymore. Despite all of that, Anna kept talking with her, if only to keep her from interacting with Lucille. Gob couldn’t even imagine what would happen if those two actually interacted for more than a few minutes, especially with how judgmental his mom looked already.

Gwen seemed to work as almost a missing link between Anna and their mom, a mix of Anna’s restraint and Gio’s Bohemian values, though she was even taller. It seemed like Anna got the short end of the height genes, no pun intended. Anyways, Gob really liked Gwen, if only because she was great at teasing Anna, which Gob thought she totally deserved, especially since some of her mood swings had been awful in his opinion.

“Have you chosen a hospital to give birth at?” Gwen asked at one point as they all were eating cake. “I assume you’re doing an epidural because I know you can’t handle pain.”

“I can handle pain,” Anna said with a frown.

 _“Suuure,_ Gigi."

“I can!” Anna said. “ _I’m_ the one who did pointe and got her hair pulled into buns by strict teachers from the age of four! And I twisted my ankle trying to recreate [the mad scene from the VHS we had of _Giselle_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B1Cacu8f39g) back in my freshman year of high school and I _still_ went on for the show choir finals without any pain showing on my face during my dance solo.”

“Birth pains are _much_ worse than a twisted ankle caused by trying to imitate a ballet dance you were too young to try,” Gwen told her.

“I’m not saying they're equivocal; I’m just saying I can handle pain.” Anna rolled her eyes. “You’re just jealous that I was in the top show choir and was its dance captain all four years and you were only in it for two.”

Gwen rolled her eyes right back. “Just because they put dancers in over anyone who could actually sing.” 

“Hey, you two,” Gio said as Anna started to open her mouth for a retort. “You both have different talents and that’s great. Now, let’s not fight over that, okay?” The two girls looked much younger at being chastised by their mother and they both nodded. “Good. If we should argue anything, it should be that there’s no need for an epidural.”

“My body, my choice,” Anna said firmly. “You can’t have protested for Roe v. Wade and then expect me to let someone else make a decision on how I give birth, can you?”

“Yeah, mom, you burned your bra for us to do whatever we want with ours,” Gwen said with a slight smirk, making Anna laugh as well. Lucille raised her eyebrows as she sipped the tea they were serving.

God, was it weird seeing his mom without alcohol in her glass.

Apparently Gio thought that meant his mom had a relevant opinion on the issue. “What do you think, Lucille? Didn’t you do natural births?” 

Lucille snorted. “Only for Gob and only because it was at our beach cottage. And only because he was born earlier than expected.”

“And when was that, mom?” Gob asked.

She painted on a smile and answered, “September, of course.” Gob rolled his eyes; he was positive she didn’t remember his real birthday anymore.

“I hope she’s early,” Anna said hopefully. “I’d love to not be pregnant on my birthday.”

As the party went on, Gob found himself zoning out. So much of the chatter was so inane to him and the dumb games were so boring and there wasn’t even any alcohol to help liven things up. What kind of fun time didn’t involve at least a mimosa? He thought white women were all about that shit.

It only got worse as Anna opened up all the gifts. They were all boring, practical gifts, some of them drifting into the gross side—he seriously did _not_ want to think about his best (female) friend using a breast pump.

He _did_ perk up a little when she opened up his gift. His gift was _fun_ , thank you very much. At Anna’s quizzical look at the box, he excitedly said, “It’s a toy piano!”

“…I can see that,” Anna said.

“It’s just until you guys finally get her a real piano to play,” Gob said excitedly. “Because I’m obviously going to be teaching her when she’s old enough. And when you get a real piano.”

“…Well, it might be awhile before we get a piano.”

“Even better for her to have a practice one,” Gob said brightly. After a beat, he asked, “Why wouldn’t you get a piano, though?”

“It’s just not a priority right now. We have birthing expenses and the wedding to think about,” Anna said. “But thanks. I’m sure she’ll love this.” With that, Anna swiftly moved onto the next gift and Gob watched, very well aware she looked a lot more excited to open up the nice robe one of her friends had gotten her.

When Gob went to get more food while Anna opened more gifts, Tony followed him into the kitchen. “…Does she not want me to teach her kid piano?” Gob asked Tony. “I mean, is she thinking of hiring someone else?”

“You’re a great teacher, I doubt that’s it.”

“ _Obviously_ I’m a great teacher. I mean, I taught Mark Cherry!” Gob insisted passionately. “And he’s doing great, right?”

“…Yeah. That’s huge,” Tony said with a frown Tony didn’t notice.

“Does she think her daughter will have no chance at musical abilities because both her and Michael can’t play?”

“I don’t think that’s it. You just don’t tend to give toys during baby showers,” Tony told him. “I think she was just thrown off guard by that.”

“Then why is it called a _baby_ shower?”

“Well, you give them all the _other_ baby stuff they need besides toys,” Tony said with a shrug. Gob frowned; he didn’t get the big deal. “I’m sure she really appreciates it.”

“Yeah, because at least my gift was _fun.”_

“Of course, babe; you’re always fun.”

Gob resisted the urge to sigh. He really didn’t feel fun. He felt like he was forcing himself to have fun, trying so hard to have his usual energy, forcing himself to enjoy things, things he normally _did_ enjoy. And, yeah, he had times like this before, but he felt all this extra pressure to be fun, to show Mark and his friends that he was cool and fun and not some old loser, and to keep Tony around and interested.

Tony frowned. He could tell something was off with Gob lately, but every time he tried to talk to him, he just shrugged it off and insisted he was fine. And he knew there was no chance to get him to talk in the middle of a baby shower. So, holding back a sigh, he asked, “Wanna get out of here? Do something fun? You know…like maybe each other?”

Yes, he was aware that they really needed to stop trying to start hook-ups in Michael and Anna’s kitchen, but at least that idea normally got Gob’s attention. He had discovered over their months of dating that Gob didn’t tend to initiate quite as often, but he always liked to be asked.

And Gob definitely did like the offer, but the idea of sex honestly sounded exhausting right then. He kinda just wanted to lay down, maybe cuddle with Tony a little…

Well, maybe Tony would cuddle him after. And he knew Tony loved to be on top of him, so he could definitely lay down.

Gob forced a small smile. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he said as he took Tony’s hand. He started to walk towards the living room again and said, “And then I can go ahead and pregame for Mark and his friends tonight.”

Gob didn’t see Tony’s frown at that.

* * *

Okay, Gob wasn’t always the best at noticing what other people did or how other people felt about him. But even _he_ could tell that his usual tricks with Mark and his entourage weren’t landing as well as they used to. There was only so many times you could show them a new shot or try to impress them with how much booze you could chug without getting drunk before they got bored. And, yeah, he was pretty sure they were bored with him.

That was bad enough, but what was worse was that Tony was starting to decline invitations to come out with them. He claimed he was tired or that he was busy and Gob just didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why Tony was turning down having a fun time, having a good time. Was their relationship already at its breaking point? So soon? They weren’t even at the halfway point of the two years he estimated they had.

It was a thought that kept nagging at him. That even when he was trying so hard to be what someone wanted, it still wasn’t good enough. He was still losing him. And he was losing the guys around him, these new friends he made. He had already lost Lindsay, and Michael was about to have another kid with Anna, which meant he couldn’t hang out with him. And even Seth lived so far away and had his own kid to worry about, too. Gob had already started calling him less and less, sure that he was just bothering him lately.

Hell, even _Gob’s_ kid was too busy to see him most of the time. He was at community college, figuring out what he wanted to do. About the only time they had together recently was when they’d hit up the gym together, an appointment Gob had started skipping out on because of work or because he had other plans, funner plans, or he was recovering from those funner plans.

George Michael had school, of course, and Maeby had work—and maybe George Michael? Gob wasn’t so sure where they landed on that. Regardless, they were busy and he…he was alone.

Tony and Mark and all of them were the only people he had left. And he was losing them. And he didn’t know why. He didn't know why he wasn't fun anymore, he didn't know why he wasn't happy anymore, and he didn't know how he was supposed to win them back.

But, god, was he going to find a way to get them back, even if his last day with Mark ended with everything but a push out the door.

* * *

When Tony got to Gob’s house, he could hear the thudding bass of some blasting on Gob’s stereo. That was…odd.

It was less odd when he let himself in with his key and realized it was something classical. Loud, but classical.

 _Dies irae, dies illa,_  
_Solvet saeclum in favilla:_  
_Teste David cum Sibylla._

Gob was pacing, a bottle of tequila in his hands. As the song slowed down and quieted, the chorus members almost whispering, he started the song over and was soon pacing again. It was only when Tony turned down the volume that Gob seemed to realize he was there.

“Hey,” Gob said. “Why’d you do that? I was listening.”

“It was really loud; you don't want to hurt your ears, do you?” 

“What’s the point of listening to Verdi if it’s not loud?” Gob asked with a scoff. “You know, when we did this in my undergrad, I had to do this, the _Requiem_ , ‘cause I had to do choir, right? Only good choir experience I had.” He took a swig of tequila and said, “See, this song, the [‘Dies irae’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AQIGymhSyA), right? It goes _so fucking hard_  in the first section.” It was why he had chosen to listen to it; it was one of the loudest pieces he could think of, one that could help distract him from the darkness in his head. He was hoping combining it with alcohol would help him drown out those voices completely and make him feel somewhat better, maybe help him actually come up with a plan.

“It does go hard,” Tony agreed, looking at Gob with concern and confusion.

“Right? Like, when I was in the choir, I was right behind the timpani and the guys were like _jumping_ up to hit on the offbeats on it. It was _so fucking cool_ ,” Gob insisted. He laughed and said, “The ‘Dies irae’ stuff…that’s all about the day of wrath, right? And fire?” Like flaming shots. The first thing he did to really impress everyone that first night out…hmmm.

Tony shrugged. “I only went to mass a couple of times growing up. Normally whenever my grandparents could sneak us away from my dad and normally just for holidays, so…I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure it has to do with fire,” Gob said. “All the cool classical shit has fire in it, have you noticed that? Paganini had the devil, that Scriabin piece, and even when Don Giovanni gets dragged to hell…all that shit is the coolest stuff.”

“I guess?” While Tony still looked very concerned, Gob looked thoughtful, rubbing his chin as the movement played on.

 _Tuba, mirum spargens sonum_  
_Per sepculchra regionum,_  
_Coget omnes ante thronum._

“So…so, like, I should play this for Mark. Show him how cool classical music can be,” Gob said. “Like, you can have cool classical shit. And it’s _fun._ Right?”

“Right,” Tony said. He shook his head after a moment. “But I thought you were done with your contract with him."

“Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, right?” Gob asked. He didn’t want it to be over, not when that was all he had left. “I mean, he’s fun, and he might want me to tour with him, which…which that would be fun. Great. Just don’t know what to do about the cats…”

“Did he…did he really ask you to tour with him?” Tony asked.

“Not officially, we just talked about it in the past,” Gob said.

“Oh.” Tony crossed his arms. “So…I guess us going on tour together would be put on hold.”

Gob took a swig of tequila. “I mean, all of this really kinda has to wait until Anna’s back in business, you know? The baby has to actually be birthed and all of that. So, I don’t know. Maybe we’ll tour first. Maybe I’ll tour with him. Maybe—oh, we could do it together! I could alternate nights…that’d be fun.”

Tony didn’t look pleased at that idea. “So…you’d be spending more time with Mark regardless. Doing music you don't really care about.”

“I guess?” Gob tilted his head and then, catching Tony’s expression, laughed. “Babe? Are you…You’re not _jealous_ of him, are you?” He moved in closer to Tony, running a hand over his side. Was that Tony had been refusing to come out with them? Did he think Gob was flirting with him or something? At least that would be an easy fix if that was the case. “You know he’s not my type, right? Just because he’s short, too, doesn’t mean nothin’.”

“I know,” Tony said, still staring at Gob with that weird expression.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I…” Tony chose his words carefully. “I think…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Mark and his friends. Going out a lot. And maybe you should just…stay in for a bit.”

For a moment, Gob looked thoughtful. Then he laughed. “Well, duh, yeah. I was planning on staying in, anyways.”

Tony felt a wave of relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of inviting the guys over,” Gob said. “You know, showing them how much fun you can have without risking the paparazzi in public. Or worrying about a getaway driver.”

Well, _that_ relief was short-lived. “I…I guess that’s a good idea, yeah,” Tony said slowly. “But what about the cats?”

“I’ll just put them in my room for the night,” Gob shrugged. “Or maybe we’ll do this at Mark’s house, I don’t know. He has more room.”

“That’s probably a better idea…”

 _Preces meae non sunt dignae;_  
_Sed tu bonus fac benigne,_  
_Ne perenni cremer igne._

“Just means I have to get these flaming shots right before I get there,” Gob said as he went to the kitchen.

“Do you really need to do that?” Tony asked. “Shouldn’t that be left to the professionals?”

“I _was_ a professional, remember? I worked as a bartender.”

“…True. But did you ever actually do flaming shots?”

“No, but if any bartender can do it, I’m sure I can handle it. Like, you just light alcohol on fire.” He took another swig of alcohol, and Tony noticed just how little of the bottle was left.

“How much of that have you had?”

Gob looked down at the bottle and shrugged. “I don’t know…it wasn’t completely full when I started or anythin’…I don’t think…” He shrugged and brought the bottle back to his lips.

Finally, Tony put his foot down and tried to grab the bottle from Gob. Gob held onto the bottle with his right hand, and, after a small struggle, Tony got it away from him, but some of it spilled down Gob’s wrist and splashes of it ended up on his arm and on his shirt.

“What the fuck, Tony?” Gob grumbled. He took off his shirt and wiped his hand on a towel. Then he laughed, “I think _you_ need to do a shot to make up for that party foul.” He grabbed a bottle of vodka from his cabinet and Tony shook his head. God, how many bottles was he going to have to take away from him?

“Gob, stop,” Tony said as Gob started to pour shots.

“Why?”

Finally, Tony said what he had been thinking for weeks now. “Because you’re scaring me.”

 _Oro supplex et acclinis,_  
_Cor contritum quasi cinis:_  
_Gere curam mei finis._

Gob did stop for a moment, looking at him strangely. “What? Why?”

“Because! Because you’re barely sleeping, you’re trying to keep up with kids half your age, you’re getting so upset over everything, and you won’t stop moving, I…” Tony didn’t know what to do but look at Gob helplessly. “Gob, you’re really scaring me. You need to slow down.”

“I’m fine, Tony!” Gob said, not sounding fine at all. “Why are you freaking out? I’m fine!” Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Gob continued. “You know, I thought I found someone same as me! You said we were same, but…but I actually like to have _fun_. And you clearly _don’t_.” This wasn't his fault, it couldn't be. It was Tony's fault, trying to make him stop when he didn't want to, when he just  _couldn't._

Tony’s mouth straightened into a thin line. “Gob, that’s not fair. I like having fun. But this isn’t fun. This is…this is out of control.”

Gob laughed humorlessly. “How am I out of control? I’m choosing to do all of this!”

“You’re pushing yourself way too far,” Tony said seriously. “And I’m honestly afraid you’re going to hurt yourself really, _really_ badly.”

Gob scoffed. “I’m fine, okay?” He shook his head and laughed that humorless laugh again. “I don’t get you anymore! You told me you love me because I have a good time and I’m happy and I have fun. That I make _you_ fun. And now I’m just trying to do that, and you…y-you think I’m being too much?” He shook his head. “Why do people always think that? Why do they think I’m too much to handle? I…I-I’m just being me. I-I’m just having fun and that’s it, I…”

Tony slowly approached Gob as the man lowered his gaze, finally stopping to breathe for real. “Gob…that’s not what I’m saying.” He brought a hand to Gob’s arm, but that touch, instead of calming him down, made Gob jerk back.

 _Lacrimosa dies illa,_  
_Qua resurget ex favilla_  
_ludicandus homo reus:_  
_Huic ergo parce, Deus._

“I told you, Tony, I’m fine!” With that, Gob flicked on his lighter with his left hand and brought it closer towards the shots he had made, not thinking of the alcohol on his right arm. Suddenly, a pain he had never felt in his life ran up his wrist, worse than the break he had decades ago. He felt the flames rise up higher on his arm as his hand dropped the lighter and, even as drunk as he was, a whole career flashed before his eyes.

_Pie lesu Domine,  
Dona eis requiem. Amen._

* * *

Gob was lucky. The doctor told him that many times as she bandaged him up. The burns weren’t _that_ bad; they were very minor running up his arm, and even the bad, concentrated parts on his wrist weren’t life-ruining by any means. She was even confident Gob had come in early enough to keep scarring relatively minimal.

He knew the other reasons he was lucky. He knew he was lucky the flames hadn’t reached past his wrist and his arm. He was lucky he hadn’t damaged his fingers and that, after the pain faded, he’d still have complete control of his wrist. He was lucky a drunken mistake hadn’t ruined a career he’d been working on for his whole life, as his doctor assured him when he asked about his playing. He was lucky Tony had been there to help and get him to the hospital faster than an ambulance could’ve.

Gob knew he was lucky. But he also knew that when he got lucky, bad luck was certain to follow.

He was let out of the ER with a check-up scheduled for the next week to make sure he was healing well, a bandage over his wrist and arm, and some ointment that was supposed to help with the scarring and pain.

Again, Gob proved to be lucky, because Tony was waiting for him when he got released. He took over filling out the release forms for him when he struggled using his right hand. He looked over the instructions Gob had been given. And, though he had a stony look on his face, he still drove Gob home without yelling at him.

Normally Gob preferred being yelled at to sitting in silence, especially when the dread of what he knew was surely going to come built in his stomach. But Gob just looked out the window, watching the streetlights they passed without saying anything.

Finally, they reached Gob’s place, and once the car was in park, Tony looked at Gob, looking angry but concerned. “Are you going to be able to play?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Gob said, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Because it wasn’t. He had obviously survived, and it hurt, but he could still move it and everything. “My fingers weren’t hurt or anything. And my wrist doesn’t touch the piano or anything. It’s gonna be fine—she even told me that. It’s not a big deal.”

Tony looked a bit relieved. “At least there’s that.” He looked at Gob for a long moment before pulling his keys out of the ignition. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

Gob just watched Tony get out of the car, honestly confused. Why wasn’t he yelling at him? Why was he being so nice? Why was he acting like that when he had fucked up so much?

God, his head hurt.

Tony, noticing that Gob hadn’t gotten out of the car himself, got his car door and, grabbing his left hand, helped him out of the car. Gob silently followed him inside, waiting for Tony to start yelling, to start telling him he was an idiot, to break up with him.

But Tony just brought him to the kitchen and poured him a glass of water. Once he handed the glass to Gob, Tony got out the ibuprofen for the next day—not that Gob would need it, really—and started to get ready for the night. Gob watched as Tony took care of everything: he locked the door, checked that the cats were okay, made sure they had food…he did everything.

Once Gob finished his water, Tony told him, “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

Gob blinked several times in confusion. “You aren’t gonna yell at me?”

Tony gave him a serious look. “We’re going to talk about this tomorrow. But right now I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

He didn’t like the sound of that, but he was tired, too, and he wanted to lay down. So, Gob followed him into the bedroom and, without bothering to get into pajamas, laid down in bed with Tony. Yet again, Gob expected Tony to turn away or remain distant or _anything_ like that. But Tony moved in close and wrapped his arms around Gob.

“Why are you still here?” Gob asked, his voice quiet and hoarse. Tony looked at him, but it was so dark Gob couldn’t tell what look he had on his face. “Y-you don’t have to stay. You can leave—you have an out.”

_“Gob…”_

“Why are you still here?”

There was a small silence, a silence that made Gob nervous, a silence he was sure would lead to Tony realizing Gob was right, a silence that would make Tony leave.

But he was proven wrong yet again. Tony moved in even closer and, after pressing a kiss to Gob’s forehead, he simply said, “Because I want to be.”

* * *

The first thought Gob had the next day was how thankful he was for the Bluth tolerance, since, though he had a headache, it was nothing compared to what the average person would have after everything he had the day before.

Then again, maybe it was just the pain in his arm distracting him from the pain in his head.

Then _again,_ maybe the fact that Tony had actually stayed and even made breakfast distracted him even more. It both made him happy to know he stayed, but nervous to know that this talk of their's was going to be unavoidable.

Gob slowly ate after he changed into more comfortable clothes. Tony watched him silently, which didn’t make Gob feel any less nervous than he had the night before, but he still kept eating as slowly as possible. The longer he put the conversation off, the longer they’d still be a couple, and the longer he wouldn’t have to live with the fact that he had ruined the best thing that ever happened to him.

But, of course, he eventually ate all he could, the dread in his stomach not allowing much room for eggs and coffee. He pushed his plate away and Tony took it to the kitchen. When he came back, he stayed standing as he looked at Gob, waiting for him to talk.

As usual, Gob was unable to deal with the silence, so he joked, or at least _tried_ to joke, “I guess that’s why Michael always told me not to do flaming shots.”

When he dared to look at Tony’s face, he realized that was the wrong thing to say. He looked angry, upset, and not at all amused. “Seriously, Gob? That’s all you can say?” Gob looked down at his lap. Why had he thought he’d prefer being yelled at versus being left in silence? “God, Gob, you _scared_ me last night,” Tony continued, sounding truly concerned. “How you were acting and then…god, I was _terrified_ you wouldn’t be able to play again.”

“…I was, too,” Gob admitted quietly. “I…I didn’t mean to do that. I’d never—you _know_ I’d never do that on purpose. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t…” Gob swallowed audibly and shook his head. The idea of that always truly _terrified_ him more than ever, the idea of possibly losing his ability to play in any way.

Tony’s face softened. “I know you wouldn’t. I know you love playing too much to do that.”

Gob nodded. Not looking at Tony, he said, “And what would I do if I couldn’t play?” He snorted softly and said, “There’d be no point for me to be… _anywhere_.”

Tony moved back to the table carefully, sitting next to Gob. “What do you mean?”

Gob slowly looked up at him and then back towards the floor. “It’s the only thing I can do. Play music. That’s always been the only thing I was good for.”

“What? Gob, that’s not true.”

“It is,” Gob said. “It’s why you even asked about that first last night.”

“What? I…Gob, I was trying to figure out how hurt you were,” Tony said, putting a hand on Gob’s shoulder. “And I wanted to know if you’d have to deal with not playing anymore, since I know you’d miss it. And _I_ would miss it—both hearing you play and playing with you. But that’s not all you’re good for.”

Gob shook his head. “I’m here for music and for providing a good time.” He blinked a few times as he felt his eyes tearing up, “And obviously I’m not fun anymore, so piano’s all I have left.”

“I…what?” Tony asked. “You’re still fun, you just got carried away—”

“I don’t feel fun,” Gob said. “I…I don’t know why. I just…I’ve been trying to be, but I just keep thinking all these things and…”

"…Babe…why didn’t you tell me you felt like this?”

Gob swallowed roughly. “I guess…I guess I didn’t think you’d want to deal with it. I mean… _I_ don’t even want to deal with it.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to deal with it?” Tony asked.

Gob looked down at his lap, one of his hands nervously tapping out scales on his leg, something he found himself doing a lot over the years when he was stressed. _C major…C minor…D-flat major…C-sharp minor…_

“…I’ve never met anyone who does,” Gob said finally. “Not really, you know. Like, Michael’s had to deal with it. Deal with me…losing it. Lindsay sometimes, too. Seth did for a while…I know he wouldn’t say it, but I think it was a relief for him when I said I didn’t want kids and things started to end. Because…because it gave him an out.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Tony said.

Gob shook his head. “Seth wanted someone more stable. And I don’t think it was just speaking financially.” He shook his head again and continued, “I’ve always been a burden. On everyone. Because I…I’ve always been too much to handle. Too dramatic. Too flamboyant. Too reckless. Too _gay._ And then…then everyone leaves. Or moves on. And I’m just…I’m still just Gob. Here to play piano or have fun and offer a good time. And that’s it.”

He blinked a few times, his eyes fixating on a spot on the floor to try to stop himself from crying. “People only deal with me because they’re obligated. For work. Or because they’re related to me. Or because I make them. It’s not because they want to be here—I mean, Lindsay left as soon as she realized she wasn’t even related to me.” Gob rubbed at one of his eyes, mad at himself for even crying.

“Gob,” Tony said softly. “Her leaving had nothing to do with you. It was about her trying to find herself.”

“She doesn’t even want to be part of our family anymore,” Gob said. “And she hasn’t bothered trying to contact me.”

“She hasn’t tried with anyone unless they contacted her first, remember?” Tony reminded him, “I know Anna’s been talking with her, but that’s because Anna’s been asking her questions. Same with Michael. Have you sent her anything?”

After a moment, Gob shook his head, still not looking at Tony.

“Lindsay just wanted space, Gob. That’s all. It’s nothing to do with you.”

That was true and Gob knew it, but he still felt a heavy feeling in his stomach.

Tony sighed softly. “You really could’ve told me, Gob. I would’ve helped you, or at least _tried_ to.”

“You…y-you love me because I’m happy. And because I love things and because I’m fun. A-and if I’m not, you, you wouldn’t…wh-why would y-y-you want to stay? I–I-I–”

Tony gently shushed Gob until he stopped his stuttering and fell silent. He gently put a hand on Gob’s shoulder and brought one to his face, tilting his head so he’d look at him. “I _do_ love that you’re so optimistic and full of energy and hope and love and all of that, that’s true. But that’s only _one_ reason why I love you.”

Gob didn’t look like he believed it. “No one wants to stay when they see me like this,” he insisted yet again. “No one…no one wants to deal with me like this. They either have to because they’re related to me or…or they leave. Or _I_ leave until I’m me again…”

“Gob, this is still you,” Tony said.

“…I don’t want it to be,” Gob muttered.

“I know…but we all have a dark side,” Tony told him softly, dropping his hand from Gob's cheek. “I have one, too, you know. And you’re allowed to have one. And I want to see it, Gob, I _do_.” Gob still looked doubtful. “It’s not like I never saw this before from you. Don’t you remember everything with when you found out about Steve? No offense, babe, but you were kind of a mess.”

The remark was surprising enough that Gob laughed for a moment. “…Yeah. Yeah, I guess I was.”

“See? I already knew you could have moments like this and I still love you,” Tony said, smiling at him. “So, next time, can’t you talk to me? Please? Let me calm you down? Remind you that you don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time?”

It didn’t make sense to Gob. He didn’t get why Tony would want to deal with that, would want someone who was such a mess, who would want _him_ with all his baggage and everything. “…You shouldn’t have to deal with it. You _don’t_ have to deal with it.”

“If I want you, I have to deal with it. And I want you, so, yeah, I _have_ to deal with it,” Tony said. Gob tried to look away as he blinked out some tears, but Tony grabbed both sides of his face with his hands, forcing him to face him. H“I can’t believe _I’m_ the one saying this of everyone I know, but you’ve _got_ to stop pushing me away, okay? This is real, which means we get the good _and_ the bad from each other.” And, really, Tony  _couldn't_ believe he was the one doing this. His relationship experiences were so minimal it felt so  _weird_ to think  _he_ was the one saying it was time to be open and honest. Hell, he hadn't been open and honest about his feelings for Gob for literal years.

But, somehow, Gob had really grabbed his heart. And it was weird and new and so  _scary_ to want someone so much, to want their good and bad sides, to want to help them, to not want to shut them out. But the idea of letting Gob go sounded even scarier to him. He just hoped Gob was willing to give that a chance. 

Gob looked at Tony for a long while before slowly nodding his head. “Okay. Good and the bad.” He gave Tony a half-smile and said, “ _The Facts of Life_ style.”

Tony laughed softly and dropped his hands from Gob’s face. “Yeah. Totally _Facts of Life_ style.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re definitely Jo,” Gob said.

“That’s the sort of response I should expect from a total Blair,” Tony said with a grin, obviously following Gob’s line of thought.

Gob smiled slightly back. “I always _did_ think they were kinda gay.”

“Totally.” The two of them just looked at each other for a moment before Tony said, “I really _do_ love you.”

Gob smiled shakily and responded, “I know.”

Tony laughed quietly. “You Solo’d me.”

“Yeah…I always wanted to do that, too.” Gob looked at Tony nervously. "So are we…are we okay?"

Tony nodded. "I…I think so? If you'll at least talk to me from now on." Gob nodded. After a moment of thought, Tony added, "Have you ever thought about seeing a therapist before?"

"What? No! I'm not cra—" Gob deflated a little and sighed. "…Maybe I  _am_ a bit crazy."

"You don't have to be crazy to see one. Didn't Lindsay say she saw one?" Gob nodded reluctantly. "It's just something to think about. Because they'll listen to whatever you need to talk about, help you organize your thoughts, try to make you feel better…Just something to think about."

Gob was hesitant to the idea, but he nodded. "I'll think about it." He could handle at least that much.

"Okay. I'd like that."

They were both silent for a few moments until Gob, looking slightly nervous, leaned in towards Tony. Tony bridged the rest of the gap to press a gentle kiss to Gob’s lips, bringing a hand to the side of Gob’s face. Gob moved his hand to Tony’s shoulder, but hit his wrist in the process. He winced in pain as he moved his head and hand back from Tony’s.

With a gentle touch, Tony took Gob’s right arm and looked over the bandages. “The hospital gave you a prescription for pain pills, but you know you can’t drink if you’re on them…so if you want to keep hanging out with Mark and everyone…”

Gob shook his head. “I…I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said. “I was trying so hard to impress them and you at the same time that…well, I ended up like this,” Gob gestured with his arm for emphasis. “…And I think I’d prefer some pain pills to booze right now. Which I can’t believe I’m saying of all people, but…”

Tony laughed slightly and nodded. “I think that’s a great idea, too.”

After he took the pain medication, Gob looked at his piano. God, was he excited to get back to playing the music he really loved, his Liszt and Rachmaninoff and little bits of pieces of Queen and Billy Joel along the way. But, even in his excitement, the idea of practicing sounded exhausting after the events of the previous day—really the last few weeks in general.

But, then again, he was sure those bad thoughts would start to surface again, even after his conversation with Tony, and practicing _was_ the best way to run away from those thoughts, even if Tony said he could talk to him about it.

God, that was going to take some getting used to.

“…I should practice,” Gob said. He looked down at his bandaged arm and wiggled his fingers. He was still technically fine to play, even if he was exhausted. “Or you should, at least.”

Tony knew he should, but after the night they had and their conversation, he felt too exhausted to think about grabbing his violin. He also didn’t like the idea of spending time away from Gob after being so vulnerable with him. Which was also weird

“…How about we just have a lazy day?” Tony asked. “We can watch something, you can lay down—we both can? It’s been…it’s been really hectic lately.”

After a moment, Gob nodded. He figured at least watching something might distract him if any of those dark thoughts came back.

“Okay. What do you want to watch?” Tony asked as they started to move over to the couch. “Is there something you’d watch when you were sick or sad as a kid?”

“Bluths don’t really get sick,” Gob said with a shrug of his shoulder. He thought about it for a moment, though, and remembered something he’d always watch when he was sad, both as a kid and as a young adult. He hadn’t watched it in years, but it sounded like the perfect thing to watch right then.

That was how Gob soon found himself cuddled up with Tony watching his old VHS of _Die Zauberflöte_.

“I thought you hated Mozart,” Tony remarked.

Gob shook his head. “I just think he’s overrated, but I like _The Magic Flute_ and stuff. I wanted to be Papageno as a kid; it’s why Lindsay gave me her stuffed dove.”

It only took a few minutes before Papageno came on stage for his first aria, [ “Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4y3mfqMBPU), and Gob started humming along absentmindedly to it. It was always such a happy, cheerful song that got caught in Gob’s head constantly. And he may have run around with that stuffed dove as a nine year old singing that song in a very bad attempt at German.

As the opera went on, Tony couldn’t help but notice some similarities between Gob and the character, just minus the straight thing. And the feathers, of course. Papageno was definitely an easy, happy-go-lucky person for the most part, but he _did_ end up going really dark at the end of the opera, only to be saved by the female version of himself, Papagena, coming out to save him and cheer him up as [they sang duet together](https://youtu.be/oT9vxBRbwjM?t=322) where they finished each other's sentences and argued about all the kids they'd have and what they'd name them.

And that wasn’t even the weirdest part of the opera, seeing as Papageno wasn’t even the lead. But it was nice seeing Gob smiling genuinely at parts and humming along to the parts he liked.

“This was fun,” Tony said once the show ended.

Gob looked at him doubtfully. “Really?”

“Yeah. I always have fun with you, even if we’re just chilling,” Tony said. “We don’t always have to go out or drink or dance or even fuck to have fun. I like all those things but…” he looked a bit embarrassed to admit, “I just enjoy spending time with you.”

Gob repeated, “Really?” Tony nodded and Gob smiled slightly. “Well, we can do this again sometime.”

“I’d like that. Especially since you should see more movies besides ones starring Patrick Swayze,” Tony teased. He kissed Gob’s temple and then slowly got up. “I’ll go make us some lunch. And by that, I mean I’m ordering Chinese.”

Gob laughed. “Get me—”

“Sesame chicken?” Tony provided. Gob nodded and Tony smiled. “I’ll get us some potstickers, too.”

“Pork? Because you’re not always Kosher?”

“You get me,” Tony said with a smirk as he pulled out his phone.

As Tony called up a Chinese place, Gob got the urge to pull out his own phone. Every time he watched _The Magic Flute_ he thought about Lindsay and her dove and all of those memories. He figured he might as well attempt to start a conversation with her, if that was the only reason why they hadn’t talked. He opened up a new text message to her and then paused. What was he supposed to say? Just tell her he watched the opera? Did he say he missed her when he still felt like she must not have missed him? Gob couldn’t just say he had a mental breakdown over text, could he?

He got pulled out of his thoughts when he heard humming. A smile spread on Gob’s face as he watched the man he loved hum the tune of his favorite opera character’s first aria as he waved the cat toy with a toy bird attached to a stick and Elise attacked it. “I think you’re the real bird catcher in this family, huh?” Tony told her as he continued to wave the toy around.

Finally, Gob looked back at his phone and typed in a simple message:

_I think I found the Papageno to my Papageno 🕊️_

* * *

“You know, I was supposed to be a mother by Mother’s Day,” Anna said.

“I know,” Michael said sympathetically.

Anna crossed her arms, but winced soon after and lowered them. “My breasts certainly think I should be one by now.”

“Gross,” Gob muttered under his breath.

Anna glared in his direction. “Do you really want to mess with me right now, Gob? I’m _over forty-one weeks pregnant._ At a fucking _Mother’s Day brunch._ Where I can’t even have a mimosa to celebrate being a mom, because I’m not a mom, because, _again,_ I am _over forty-one weeks pregnant.”_

“I’m allowed to not want to hear about boobs when I’m trying to eat!” Gob shot back.

Thankfully, Michael stepped in before they could get into a full-blown fight. “Technically, you _are_ already a mother,” Michael tried to say delicately. “You’re doing the whole mother thing right now, right? And, besides, you’re already kind of a stepmom to George Michael.”

George Michael, who had taken a break from studying for finals, nodded at that. Their relationship wasn’t the most typical step-parent to step-child that he knew, but she was still a maternal figure in his life. Just, you know, later on than most people’s maternal figures.

After a moment, Anna relented and nodded. “Right,” she muttered. With a sigh, she said, “It was just hard enough being pregnant on my birthday, but I really thought she’d be here by now.”

“I know,” Michael repeated. “But, hey, overdue babies tend to be more alert once they’re born. And have longer hair, so that'll be cute.”

Anna smiled slightly. “I hope she’s a blonde like me.”

Michael smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but his smile dropped a beat later. “…I was just about to say Lindsay’s a natural blonde so it’s possible, but I guess her genetics have nothing to do with mine,” Michael said as his mom sat back down at the table. “Not if she’s Nellie.”

Lucille snorted, clearly already a bit drunk off of several Blood Marys. “You can obviously tell why we _had_ to change her name. I can’t believe her mother named her _Nellie…”_ With a laugh, Lucille added, “And then she went and married a Nellie.” After a beat, she gave Gob a sympathetic look and said, “No offense, Gob.”

“Literally no offense was taken until then,” Gob said. It was annoying that she felt the need to say it, honestly, but it was even more annoying that it was the most accepted he had felt with her since their talk at his place after he publicly came out.

Gob dropped his fork on his plate with a sigh at that realization. Part of the bandage on his right wrist peaked through and he quickly pulled his sleeve down, his eyes fixated on his hand. _God_ , was he tired. Tired of having to laugh things off, tired of pretending everything was fine, tired of feeling like things weren’t fine in the first place. Things _were_ starting to feel better, they were, but _god_ was he not feeling up to dealing with, well, any of this. Not when his pain meds wouldn’t even let him have alcohol.

Gob suddenly pushed his chair back and put his napkin on his plate. “I’m gonna go,” he said.

Michael looked up at him with concern. “Are you sure?” Gob nodded. “Are you feeling okay?”

And Gob knew Michael really cared. He knew Michael wanted to know. And, yes, he _was_ tired of having to hide things from people just because they had so much going on.

But he also knew how Michael was. He knew he’d make it a bigger deal than necessary. He knew it was just going to be more exhausting dealing with him if he told him. And, yeah, Michael _did_ have enough to worry about.

And he had someone else he could turn to now, and that was a thought that made him give a genuine smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

* * *

Soon enough, Gob was on Tony’s couch, still dressed in his brunch clothes, and Tony asked, “What do you want to watch?”

After a long pause, Gob sighed. “Do you have that _Cats_ musical?” Tony raised his eyebrows and Gob shrugged. “You watched _The Magic Flute_ for me, I might as well watch whatever this is. Plus, maybe it’ll bore me to sleep.”

Tony couldn’t even roll his eyes at that because he was too excited. He quickly got off the couch and put in the DVD, his eyes practically glowing as he got the recording of the stage show set up on his TV. Once he got back on the couch, Gob soon had his head on a pillow in Tony’s lap, Tony’s hand lightly running through his hair. The very cat-like behavior seemed all-too-appropriate what with the musical on screen and all.

“If I fall asleep, you’ll make sure I get up in time to get home and feed the cats? You know, the actual ones, not the actors in leotards?”

“Of course,” Tony said. With that, Tony pressed play.

Gob watched the actors dressed like cats as they ran around on stage and danced and sang, Tony mouthing the words or straight up singing along at certain parts. Gob wasn’t sure if he was just too tired to follow the plot or if the plot was just _that bad,_ but he really wasn’t sure what happened. It actually wasn’t as bad as he expected, just really fucking _weird._

“What did you think?” Tony asked afterwards.

“…Did they kill off a cat to give to their Cat God or something?”

“Kinda.”

"Weird."

“Yeah.”

“Weird choice for your favorite musical.”

Tony shook his head. “It’s not my favorite musical. My favorite is _The Magic Show._ I’ll make you watch that some other time.”

“You? Liking something with magic in the title?” Gob asked dryly. _“Surprising.”_

Tony laughed quietly. “Maybe I’m a little predictable,” he admitted, running a hand through Gob’s hair. “But your favorite opera is _The Magic Flute_ , which is even weirder than _Cats_ , so I’m not sure you have room to talk.” Gob snorted; he had a point. “So, what’s your favorite musical?”

After a moment of thought, Gob said, “Maybe _The Who’s Tommy_? I like The Who. And that was probably the only time I could admit I liked Elton John when I was younger.”

“Figures you’d like something directed by the guy who directed _Lisztomania_.” He paused and said, “I know you haven’t seen that many movies, but _please_ tell me you’ve seen _that_ one.”

Gob laughed slightly and closed his eyes. “I actually have, yes.”

“Maybe you’re a little predictable too, hmm?”

“Maybe,” Gob said. “And maybe a very stoned me was convinced that Wagner was a vampire because of that movie. Didn’t do so hot on that music history test.”

Tony snorted. “He was a dick. Might as well should’ve been a vampire.”

“Mhmmm,” Gob said sleepily.

“Wrote some great music, but he was the worst.”

“I know. Basically the first Nazi and all of that,” Gob said. “Did you know he also cheated on his wife with Liszt’s daughter, Cosima?”

“Yep. Like I said, he was a dick.” Tony snorted. “Richard Wagner. Dick Wagner. _Literally_ a dick.”

“Haha, right,” Gob said. “Cosima was married, too. To Hans von Bülow.”

“Who’s that again?"

“Pianist and conductor, mostly. He also gave Chopin’s preludes nicknames, but the only one people still use of his is [‘Raindrop’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6OFHXmiZP38).”

Tony had heard Gob play that before and smiled. “I love that piece.”

“It’s a great one,” Gob agreed. “Studied with Liszt. I think he also studied with Clara’s dad when he was younger.”

“The German Romantics made up such a small world.”

“I know, right? But then Cosima cheated on Hans to be with Wagner. Then Wagner’s wife died and then she got a divorce, which he only granted after she had _three_ of Wagner’s kids—all named after his opera characters, too. And Hans still went on to conduct two of Wagner’s premieres.”

“Can you imagine being cuckolded by Wagner?” Tony asked.

“Can you imagine being with someone who was best friends with your _father_?” Gob shuddered.

“God, no,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“And I think she was why Liszt was buried at Wagner’s theater in Bayreuth against his wishes.”

“What a bitch.”

“I know.” After a pause, he admitted, “I still want to see an opera in Bayreuth someday. And not just to see Liszt’s grave.”

“…Yeah, me, too,” Tony admitted with a sigh. “Being let in as a Jewish man would be a nice ‘fuck you’ to him.”

Gob snorted. “Yeah. You’d probably get extra ‘fuck you’ points for being bi. And maybe for being Italian; I doubt he liked them since they aren’t German.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Gob turned his head to look up at Tony. He changed the subject by saying, “[The magic cat’s song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZQ_RgpO2T8) was fun, though. Repetitive, but catchy.”

“Right?” Tony said excitedly. “It’s why I always wanted a cat named Mr. Mistoffelees.”

“You should get one,” Gob said.

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. Then I’d have to be home to feed him and you’d have to be at _your_ home to feed _your_ cats. We’d never get to see each other.”

Gob looked at him, an idea coming to him. “…Or _we_ could get one. Together.”

Tony looked at him curiously as Gob slowly sat up. “Together?”

“Yeah.”

“As in raise a cat together?”

“Yeah.”

“Like living together?”

“Yeah.” After a moment, Gob said, “I mean, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I know it’s a lot after everything, but if you wanna…well, we can try?”

Tony kept looking at him for a while as he thought it over. It seemed like several minutes, but it was probably less than a minute, before Tony finally spoke. “So, my place, your place, or do we just find a new place all together?”

Gob smiled wider than he had in weeks.

* * *

“I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore,” Anna said, her face positively glowing from the smile she was wearing.

“We can't either,” Gob said. At her glare, he shrugged. “I just want the baby here. It’s nothing to do with you.” She eyed him suspiciously but soon nodded and looked away.

“I can’t wait to lie down on my back again and be able to tie my own shoes and, _god,_ I miss heels,” she sighed happily. “And work. I _really_ can’t wait for that.”

“We miss you working, too,” Tony said.

“The labor part is going to obviously be unpleasant, epidural or not. But I’m so tired of being pregnant that I’m so fucking ready to give birth,” Anna sighed. “Thank god for inducing options. Tomorrow cannot come fast enough.”

“I know,” Michael said, checking their packed hospital bag yet again. Anna winced and Michael immediately dropped what he was doing to ask, “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Just a false contraction. Again.” She rolled her eyes. “This girl just doesn’t want to leave.” Michael helped her sit down anyways and then sat down on the arm of the couch next to her.

“Are your parents flying in?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. My mom just gave her last final, so she’s on her way. My dad has one last final to give tomorrow afternoon, then he’ll be coming,” she said. “The doctor said even with induction, it could take a while for the actual labor, so he probably won’t miss anything.”

“So, while we’re at the hospital, you guys will take in the newspaper and everything, right?” Michael asked.

“Right, right, of course,” Tony said with a nod. “We’ll make sure everything’s going okay.”

“Thanks.” Michael went back to checking the hospital bag for what had to be the fifth time to make sure they had everything.

Gob took the silence as an opportunity to nudge Tony. Gob whispered, “The news? Remember?”

Tony smiled. “Oh, yeah. We have some good news of our own,” Tony said. “Maybe not inducing pregnancy good, but, well, Gob and I were talking the other day and, after some discussion…” 

“We’re moving in together!"

Michael dropped the overnight bag. _“What?”_

“Well, Tony’s over pretty much every night anyways.”

“Yeah, and it just seemed to make sense to go ahead and split payments.”

“We might get another cat, too.”

Tony smiled. “A Magical Mr. Mistoffelees maybe.”

Gob rolled his eyes. Despite suggesting it, he was still resisting the name. _“Maybe._ Or maybe a Freddie Purrcury.”

"Or a Rum Tum Tugger." Tony laughed as Gob sighed. “You know you enjoyed watching _Cats._ And you can’t make fun of it when _you_ like _The Magic Flute_ , which makes even _less_ sense.”

“Rude."

Anna made a face. “I only saw _Cats_ back when my then-husband was in a regional production for a while, so I’m not the biggest fan.” After a beat, she said, “Just don’t name any cat after the cat burglar duo or whoever.”

“Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer,” Tony provided.

"Hey, you won't even tell us the name you and Michael decided on, so why do you get any say in our cats' names?" Gob asked.

“I'm simply making a request to not name one after my ex-husband's character, which I think is fair enough," Anna said. Thankfully, instead of getting worked up, she laughed and said, “My parents saw it when they visited and my dad _hated_ it; I’m pretty sure he actually cheered when we divorced because of it. He thought it was a shame to T. S. Eliot."

Tony asked, “T. S. Who-liot?”

Anna looked back with the same amount of confusion. “…T. S. Eliot? The poet who wrote the book of poems the lyrics come from?”

After a moment, Tony nodded. “Oh yeah. Of course. Him.”

“Totally,” Gob said, nodding as well.

Anna raised her eyebrows, but then continued, “Anyways, congratulations! That’s great news.” She looked at her fiancé, “Don’t you think so, Michael?”

Michael had a tense look on his face. “Gob? Can I speak with you alone for a minute?”

“Okay,” Gob said, getting up and following his brother out of the living room.

Anna winced again and brought a hand to her lower back. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I’ve tried to do my best to help him with this.”

“I know,” Tony said. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

“He’ll turn around,” Anna said.

“Hopefully,” Tony muttered.

Once they were in the kitchen, Gob started, “Look, I know _Cats_ the musical is pretty dumb. But if we can find a black and white cat—”

“I don’t care about your cat’s name,” Michael said quietly, trying to keep his voice down. “I care about the fact that you’re still trying to be with a guy who led you on for _years.”_

Gob looked confused. Did Michael really think that was an issue? _Still?_

“…What are you talking about?” Gob asked. “Michael, he didn’t _know_ I liked him.”

“I can’t believe that,” Michael said.

“Even if he did, he loves me and I love him, and that’s in the past.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Come _on,_ Gob. That’s not something you can or _should_ forgive so easily.”

“It’s not your decision, Michael; it’s _mine.”_

“But your decisions affect me, Gob!”

“How?”

“Because I’m the one who has to clean you up when you break!” Michael said. “Because you came to me after you ended things with Seth and then Anna for all those guys in New York. And we have a _kid_ coming, Gob. I can’t be there for you when you break again.”

Gob curled his hands into fists. “I’m not broken.”

“I’m not saying you are. I just…I can’t stand by and let you move in with a jerk who led you on for years! I can’t. I can’t handle a big break-up, Anna can't either, and Lindsay’s gone. I…you can’t do this.”

“What if we don’t break-up? Because, you know, I don’t think we’re going to.”

“Really?” Michael asked with a scoff. “God, Gob, you can’t tell me this is going to last forever. Not when he led you on for years—” Michael made a noise of frustration and then continued, “You can’t come crying to me when this ends, okay?”

Suddenly, Michael had a weird look on his face, his eyes widening and a hand going to his temple. “…Oh my god…” He looked at Gob helplessly. “I sounded like dad just then, didn’t I?”

“…Kinda,” Gob admitted.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Michael said. He ran his hands over his face and muttered, “Great. I have a child two weeks overdue and I’m turning into our father.” Gob stood there, unsure of what to say. Finally, after a long moment, Michael said, “It’s not that I don’t think you can’t hold onto someone. You know that, right?”

Gob nodded. He thought he knew that, at least.

“I just…Tony’s…judgmental. And thinks he knows everything and he thinks he knows what’s best for everyone, like telling my son to study abroad or telling you what to do—”

“Like you do?” Gob observed. Michael blinked a few times as he tried to process that.

“Uh…Michael?” Tony called out.

“…Kinda busy, Tony,” Michael called back.

“I think this is more important?”

“Just a minute—”

 _“Michael!”_ Anna called out.

Gob and Michael looked at each other for a moment before Michael sighed and went back to the living room. “Yes?”

“I don’t think those were Braxton Hicks contractions,” Anna said slowly, her eyes wide in shock.

“…You don’t?”

“They couldn’t have been, because I think my just water broke.”

Michael did a double take. “Wait, what?”

Anna seemed to snap out of her shock, too. “Oh my god. My water broke.” She looked at Michael and smiled widely, “We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby!”

Michael smiled incredulously. “We’re having a baby!” he repeated as he started to help Anna off the couch.

Tony looked at Gob, “Hey, did you know they’re having a baby?”

“First time I’ve heard about it.”

* * *

After calling Anna’s doctor, they were told to go to the hospital. Michael immediately grabbed the bag they had packed for just that situation and got Anna situated in the car as she started to call her family. Gob and Tony followed them out in Gob’s car to the hospital, since it felt kind of wrong to go home or something.

As soon as they were there, Anna was wheeled in and as Michael worked on checking her in, she pulled out her ringing cell phone. “Mom? Thank god—my water broke; she’s coming,” she said. “When’s the second flight? Can you get in any earlier? I want you here— _fuck!”_ Anna nearly dropped her phone in shock at a strong contraction ran through her. “Yeah, yeah, still going…” she said through gritted teeth, her free hand squeezing an arm rest of her chair. After a few more seconds, she relaxed again, letting out a breath in relief.

She paused as her mom said something and rolled her eyes. “No, mom, we’ve been through this! I’m getting an epidural.” She clenched her jaw and responded to whatever her mom said with, “Because that one already hurt even _more_ than I expected, okay? And that isn’t even the worst part of the labor according to the books. And I can’t do more of that, I can’t—I c-can’t do this, oh _god_ —”

“Anna, Anna, it’s going to be fine,” Michael said. She thrust the phone at him as she started to breathe faster and faster and she started to fan her face to try to stop herself from crying. Without even being asked, Tony stepped forward and knelt in front of her as he started trying to calm her down.

“Anna, it’s going to be okay,” Tony said. “You’re going to get all the drugs and you won’t feel anything, I promise. My sister Lizzie has had, like, a million kids and you’re ten times stronger than her.” Despite her panic, Anna let out a small laugh, but her breaths were still coming out fast. “Breathe, okay? In…”

Michael blinked for a moment in shock before balancing the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could finish filling out the intake form for the hospital.

“Hi, Mrs. Mi— _Gio_ , yes,” Michael said. “Yes, I’m finishing the forms; my brother’s boyfriend is calming her down.” He nodded as Anna’s mom kept talking. “Yes, her water broke…no, the contractions aren’t that close…”

Gob watched as Michael answered some more questions and Tony kept trying to get Anna to breathe and calm down. He took one of her hands with his left and kept instructing her to breathe in and out. “See? You’ve got this.” Anna shook her head, but her breaths _were_ calming down despite how she looked on the verge of tears.

Gob felt like he should do _something_ , but he didn’t know _what_. After a moment, he announced, “I’ll call Lindsay.” He figured that was something pretty easy to do that wouldn’t make the situation more complicated.

Gob stepped off to the side and, for the first time in almost a year, dialed Lindsay’s number. Surprisingly, she actually picked up after a few rings; it was actually really nice to hear her voice. “Linds! Hey—”

“ _Ow_ —Anna! Anna! I use that hand to make us _both_ money!” Tony yelped.

Apparently that was all Lindsay needed to hear to know what was going on. “Anna’s in labor?” Lindsay asked. “I thought they were inducing tomorrow—”

“Her water broke and she’s having those contract things or whatever? I guess this baby just wanted to come out already.”

There was a small pause before she said, “I’m on my way.”

Michael finally finished the forms and managed to pull Anna’s hand off of Tony’s just as Gob stepped back to join them. Tony wriggled his fingers to test them before sighing in relief. “ _Jesus_ , she's stronger than she looks,” Tony muttered to Gob.

“Lindsay’s on her way,” Gob told them.

“That’s great,” Michael said before turning to Anna. “It’s okay, Anna. Your mom’s going to be here as soon as she can and she’s telling your dad.” A nurse came out and started to take a panicking Anna back.

Michael looked to Tony and Gob. “We’ll be here,” Tony told him, Gob nodding in agreement.

“…Thanks. I’ll let you know when you can see her—”

“Michael!” Anna called out. Michael gave them one last look before running after his fiancée, his large bag over his shoulder.

* * *

Once they were allowed back to see Anna, Gob and Tony braced themselves for the worst, only to find her humming to herself with Michael sitting next to her attentively.

“Hey?” Tony said hesitatingly, afraid she was going to bite his head off. She’d been doing that a lot lately, after all, and she had been extra agitated and panicked when she was wheeled off.

But, surprisingly, Anna smiled at them and waved with the hand that wasn’t hooked up to a machine. “ _Hey_.” 

“You seem… _relaxed_ ,” Tony said. 

"She seems  _high,"_ Gob muttered for only Tony to hear, Tony nodding in agreement.

“She got a _bit_ more than an epidural,” Michael explained in a stage whisper.

“ _Ah_.”

Anna smiled peacefully. “It’s nice.” She looked around the room for a moment, looking almost transfixed before smacking her lips, making a face. “They said I should nap. It could be hours before I need to push. But I should do other things first. Right?”

“Any way we can help?” Tony volunteered. Anna blinked a few times but didn’t respond, so Tony moved his gaze to Michael. “Do you need to tell anyone else?”

Michael sighed and tried to think it over. “Her mom’s on the way and her dad’s giving his last final tomorrow—"

“Work’s important. He’s shaping children’s minds,” Anna said with a knowing nod of her head.

“Right,” Michael said. “They’re telling her siblings so they’ll know. I told George Michael I’d let him know when the labor started for real—UCI is on a quarter schedule so he’s not in finals, but hopefully he’s not in class. And Maeby was helping him study, so she knows, too.”

Gob couldn’t help but snort a little. Yeah, he was sure they were _just_ studying.

Michael chose to ignore his brother’s disbelief and continued, “I called mom, she said to let her know when the baby’s here, and I'm sure Buster heard then, too…And Gob told Lindsay. Who knows if she’ll make it out. Who even knows where she _is_ …” Michael sighed. “I don’t think there’s anyone left?”

Anna looked over at Michael with wide eyes. “Does Gob know?”  

Gob raised his eyebrows. “Anna? I’m right here.”

Anna turned to look at him. “Oh! Hey! When did you get here?”

“I came in with Tony.” Anna looked confused. “I was there when your water broke.” She blinked a few more times and shook her head, trying to clear it.

“You should sleep,” Michael told her, but Anna shook her head. “Come on, you haven’t been sleeping well for months and this is your chance to get some rest.” Anna shook her head again and muttered that she was fine.

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and soon another blonde joined the room, this one with a new, short, asymmetrical cut they had never seen on her and rather drab clothes compared to her usual outfits. Michael and Gob’s faces both lit up at the sight of her. “Linds!” Michael said, rushing over to hug her, which had to be the fastest Gob had seen Michael move to hug  _anyone._ “You made it!”

Lindsay hugged him back and Gob couldn’t stop himself from running over to hug her once Michael was done. “I missed you,” Gob mumbled, a little embarrassed to admit it.

“I missed you, too,” Lindsay said genuinely, making Gob hug her tighter.

Once they pulled apart, Lindsay greeted Tony with a hug (which honestly surprised him) and then went over to the hospital bed where Anna was laying. “Hey,” Lindsay said sympathetically, lightly grasping her hand in greeting.

“Hey,” Anna said, smiling sleepily. “Nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too.”

“I like your hair.”

Lindsay was clearly surprised at how calm Anna was. “Thanks,” she said, lightly touching the edges of one side. “How’s it going?”

“‘M fine,” Anna said as Michael came back to her other side. “Li’l sleepy,” she admitted before laughing quietly.

“That epidural’s really good, huh?” Lindsay asked. “Guess I should’ve gotten one.”

Anna just hummed in response, her eyelids starting to droop. Michael gently moved some of her hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you take a nap, honey?”

“Mmkay,” Anna agreed. “You’ll let my mom know where I am when she gets here, right?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll wake me up for the actual birth?”

Michael held back a laugh. “You’re not going to be knocked out long enough to miss that. I promise.” She nodded and he kissed her forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” She smiled and closed her eyes, almost immediately falling asleep.

 _“Wow,”_  Lindsay laughed.

Michael couldn’t help but laugh a little. “She got a sedative since she was panicking. Which then freaked her out more, since she thought it might hurt the baby. The baby’s fine, but they had to give her a little bit more after that. She hasn’t slept much the last few weeks, so it’s good.”

“Yeah. The last trimester is the worst. I can’t imagine being so overdue on top of it.”

They were all silent for a while, just drinking in the moment. Finally, Michael said, “You got here quickly.”

“…Uh, yeah. I was just near the Mexican border, so it was a quick drive over.”

After a silence, Tony asked, “Where else have you been?”

Lindsay smiled slightly. “Lots of places,” she said. “I started in India. It was nice at first, but it’s so _crowded_ there and so _hot_ and I realized all these people were trying to scam me into paying too much at their markets, so I left.”

She shrugged. “I tried finding myself in a few other places. Spain, Portugal, France, England…nothing seemed to really work,” Lindsay said. “I even tried Boston after a while. You know, to see if seeing my old friends and stuff would help. And it didn’t.”

Lindsay looked down at her hands for a few moments, nervous to say what happened next. “I actually was in LA for a bit—just a few days, or else I would’ve called,” she insisted. “I thought I’d come back, but then I ran into this guy. Remember Johnny Bark?” Michael nodded. “Yeah, it was his son, Marky.”

“His name’s _Marky Bark_?” Gob asked. Tony snorted at the name.

“Yeah. And, I don’t know, you know I’ve always cared about the environment so much, and I thought maybe being with him, being away from all my material possessions would help,” Lindsay said. “So, I’ve been with him. In Mexico.”

“Oh.” Michael nodded. “So…so you’re going back there once the baby’s born?”

Lindsay snorted. “Oh _god_ , no.” She crossed her arms as she laughed. “I think what I’ve learned most of all is that I like being able to take a hot shower and not clean up after ostriches and having A/C and a nice bed and having people tell me I’m hot—Marky's face blind, so he can't even tell when it's me…and I’ve learned that being alone is overrated.” She admitted, "And I really missed Maeby and everyone—even mom which,  _god,_ means I really need some more therapy." They all laughed quietly at that.

She shrugged again, looking down at her feet. “And if that’s who I am, well, I guess that makes me a true Bluth through and through. Maybe it’s not the most flattering thing,” she looked up at Michael and Gob, giving them a half-smile, “but I know I really love being your guys’ sister. So…I guess it’s worth it.”

The three of them gave each other small smiles until Michael said, “The oldest are always so wise.”

“ _Watch it.”_

* * *

The rest of the day wasn’t very eventful. Gob could tell Michael wanted to talk to him about what he said in the kitchen, but he was obviously too busy worrying about Anna and then, of course, dealing with Anna’s mom. Gio came bursting in a few hours after Anna had been checked in, which oddly seemed to relax Anna more. Despite Gio’s belief that Anna should have a natural birth, she turned out to be really good at hounding the nurses about making sure Anna had the right amount of pain medication going through her at all times.

Eventually, Tony and Gob went to Gob’s place and Lindsay went back to Maeby’s. The so-called “active labor” was going to take a while, apparently, especially with the added sedative and all. Michael said a whole bunch of stuff that Gob didn’t quite understand about dilation and stuff, but the long and short of it was that it was gonna be a while and they might as well try to sleep.

Around seven AM, Michael sent a group message that the active labor had started. That meant they still had a few hours between the actual birth and when Anna would be ready for visitors, but Tony and Gob headed to the hospital anyways.

They stopped in the hospital gift shop once they got there to find some possible presents for Anna and the soon-to-be-Bluth, both of them checking their phones every now and then to make sure they didn’t miss anything.

“Do you see anything you like?” Tony asked.

Gob shrugged. He never really got the point of giving people flowers and balloons. They died and deflated so quickly that they seemed pretty pointless.  

“Hey, guys!” They both turned around and saw Lindsay walking in. “Great minds think alike, I guess.”

“Yeah, apparently,” Tony said.

As his sister and boyfriend chatted, Gob looked around him. His eyes eventually caught the section of stuffed animals. “I’m gonna look at those,” he told Tony, interrupting their conversation without thought. He left them without another word and Tony watched him for a moment before turning back to Lindsay.

“So, how’s everything going with you two?” Lindsay asked, a smile on her face. “Gob sent me a _very_ sweet message about you a couple weeks ago.”

“Really?” Tony couldn’t stop himself from grinning widely at that. “It’s been great. We…we  _did_ hit a bit of a rough patch, but we moved past it. Very adult-like, too. And we’re, uh, actually moving in together.”

“Really? Congratulations!”

“Thanks…” he said warily. “…I’m not gonna lie, I thought you’d be pretty upset about it.”

Lindsay looked puzzled. “Why would I be upset?”

“Well, Michael told Gob off about it yesterday before Anna’s water broke.” Tony snorted. “He thought I couldn’t hear them, but Anna and I got to listen to him say exactly how he felt about me, and I thought maybe you felt the same way.” 

Lindsay frowned. “Before I left, I was still a bit concerned that you were lying about not knowing how Gob felt, sure. But regardless of that, you two are still together and obviously happy, so I don’t think it’s our business.”

“You’d think,” Tony said. “Michael just obviously doesn’t believe that.”

Lindsay snorted. “Michael thinks _everything’s_ his business. I love him, obviously, but he likes to micro-manage other people’s lives. Especially when he’s stressed. And, honestly, I know I’ve been gone and everything, but…” Lindsay sighed, “He’s been stressed about this baby. More stressed than he’s been letting on. I can’t blame him; having a second child at forty, plus all his baggage and dealing with Anna, who I know kinda lost her cool there…I think it got to him. He kinda lost control of his life and then couldn’t control dad’s since he ran off; his son’s at college, so he can’t really tell him what to do anymore; Maeby would never listen to him if he tried, same with mom, and Buster just listens to mom over everyone else. So…yeah, I guess I can’t be surprised that he’s trying to control Gob’s life.”

Tony looked at her oddly. “I…wow. That…you really _are_ wise.”

Lindsay looked flattered. “Thanks. It helps that it’s Michael, though; we may not really be twins, but I still know him pretty well,” Lindsay said with a shrug. “I can try talking to him if you want?”

Before Tony could decide if he wanted that or not, Gob came back over with a huge teddy bear, one that had to be at least half his height. He had it in his left arm, avoiding the burn on his right wrist that was still covered by a long sleeve. “I like this one.”

Lindsay pointed out, “It’s…kinda big.”

“She’ll grow into it,” Gob said with a shrug. He looked at Tony excitedly and asked, “What do you think?”

Tony agreed with Lindsay, really, but it was hard to deny Gob when he smiled like that. Plus, a larger-than-life gift was all too perfect of a representation of him to get for his new niece “It’s perfect.”

* * *

The newest addition to the Bluth and Mitchell families entered the world around 9:17 in the morning. After hours of (impatiently) waiting, Lindsay, Gob, and Tony saw Gio came out of the delivery room. She had to go check into the hotel she and her husband were staying at until Anna was out of the hospital, but the three of them were allowed to go back and see Anna, Michael, and the baby.

Gob, Lindsay, and Tony all went into the hospital room carefully, all carrying gifts: Lindsay had a bouquet of flowers, Tony had some balloons, and Gob was carrying the oversized teddy bear. Michael was sitting at the edge of the hospital bed on the opposite side of the door and looked up at them with a smile while Anna kept her eyes on the pink bundle in her arms.

“Hey,” Lindsay whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

Anna finally looked over at them, her eyes a little watery as she smiled. “…I’m feeling lots of things right now. Except my legs—they’re still a little numb.”

Lindsay laughed softly. “An epidural sounds more pleasant than my home water birth was.”

Anna laughed herself before looking back at her daughter with utter fascination. Lindsay sat the flowers on a nearby table and Tony put down the balloons next to the table, a little weight at the end of them keeping them from floating away. Gob kept the teddy bear in his arm, finding it very comforting to hold onto as they all slowly approached his new niece.

“This is Ellie,” Anna told them softly.

“Aw, I love that name,” Lindsay said quietly. “Can I hold her?” After a moment of hesitation, Anna nodded and carefully handed over her sleeping child to Lindsay. “She’s beautiful,” Lindsay said, smiling down at her niece.

After a few moments, Tony got to hold her. Gob looked over his shoulder and smiled. She was still all wrinkly like all newborns looked to him, but she had some hair that made her look more human. “She looks so much like you,” Tony told Anna. He looked over at Gob and started to pass her onto him, but Gob shook his head.

“Gob?” Michael asked. “Don’t you want to hold her?”

He honestly felt like he shouldn’t be trusted with something so small and precious at the moment. But, on top of that, he wasn’t sure how he could hold her without hurting the burn on his arm.

Of course, he didn’t want to tell Michael that. “…Maybe later,” Gob said. He shrugged the teddy bear up higher on his body and said, “I got my hands full right now.” He looked back down at her and smiled, hoping that would be enough to keep Michael off his case.

Thankfully, even if Michael was still suspicious, he didn’t have a chance to say anything. George Michael rushed in only seconds later, Maeby trailing right behind him. “Am I—did I miss it? Am I a brother?”

“Yeah. Welcome to the older brother society,” Gob said.

“Wow…I’ve never really seen a newborn—except that one time…” George Michael shook his head; he didn’t like thinking about the stuff he saw in the hospital that day his dad thought Maggie was giving birth to his child. He carefully took her from Tony’s arms and smiled at her. “She’s so small.”

“Seven pounds, six ounces, and nineteen inches,” Anna said proudly. “Well within the average weight and length.”

“What’s her name?” Maeby asked, looking over her not-cousin’s shoulder.

Michael answered, “Ellie—well, that’s her nickname for now.”

“Unlike my parents, I wanted to make sure she had a nickname from the start,” Anna said as she gestured for George Michael to come in closer.

“What’s her full name?” Lindsay asked. "Nothing from Middle Earth, right?"

Anna laughed slightly as George Michael handed her daughter back to her. “None of the _Lord of the Rings_ names stuck. But Michael and I worked out a good one.” She looked back at him and he stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She’s named partly after me and partly after my favorite ballet character,” Anna smiled over at Gob, “and sorta after her oldest uncle.” Gob raised his eyebrows and she softly continued, her eyes back on her daughter, “Giselle Ophelia Bluth-Mitchell.”

“Gob-M?” Lindsay asked with a smile. She lightly nudged Gob while Tony wrapped an arm around his waist.

“That’s adorable,” Tony said.

Anna smiled. “Yeah, we thought so, too.”

Gob looked at Michael for confirmation; he had to be against that, right? After all the insistence that George Michael wasn’t named after him for so many years, after not wanting his future wife to bear his initials, there was no way Michael gave his child his initials. But, to his surprise, Michael nodded in confirmation. “It fits Anna’s family’s naming pattern. And it kind of matches George Michael’s name—his middle name is my name and Anna’s middle name is Ellie’s.” Gob nodded. Of course. But then Michael smiled and added, “But you were the one who introduced us, so the initials seemed extra fitting.”

Slowly, Gob’s lips twitched up into a smile. “It’s a bit much to name _both_ your kids after me, don’t you think?” 

* * *

Eventually Gio came back and Ellie needed to eat, so the rest of the family left to give them privacy. Gob sat in the waiting room with the teddy bear held tight against his chest, his eyes unfocused as he waited for Tony and Maeby to come back with food. They had gone out to find stuff for everyone, since no one particularly felt like leaving the hospital yet. Gob had his appointment in an hour anyways, so there was no point in leaving. Lindsay was sitting next to him while George Michael sat in the opposite corner doing a reading for a class he had the next day.

After a little while, Gob felt someone sitting down next to him. He blinked sluggishly, his eyes slowly coming back into focus in the process. “Hey.” Michael.

Gob nodded but didn’t say any greeting.

“So, are you going to give my daughter that teddy bear or are you keeping it? It might be a little too big for her.”

Lindsay laughed a little. “It might be a little too big for _Anna_.”

Michael laughed quietly at that. “You might be right.”

“How are they doing?” Lindsay asked.

“Great,” Michael answered. “They’re both resting; Anna needs all the sleep she can get before we get home. Anna’s mom kinda kicked me out, actually. Insisted I needed a break.”

Lindsay smiled. “Yeah. sounds like a mother thing to do during a time like this.” After a pause, she added, “Not like I’d really know, since mom didn’t come out for mine.”

“You also had an at-home water birth,” Michael pointed out. Lindsay shrugged and Michael rolled his eyes. “Mom said she’s heading over soon with Buster.”

“Does that mean dad’s coming?” Gob asked.

“No,” he said. “Anna doesn’t want him around.” With a dark expression, Michael added, “I don’t want him around, either. I…I really don't want to see him anymore. For real."

Gob was surprised, but he nodded. “Good.”

Michael looked at Gob with concern. “…Why didn’t you want to hold Ellie?” Michael asked quietly. His eyes darted over to his son briefly to make sure he wasn’t paying attention to them before looking back at his brother. “Is it because of what happened yesterday?”

“No.”

“You aren’t mad at me?”

“…I don’t know,” Gob said honestly. “But it wasn’t because of that. I…” He looked between his brother and sister and shook his head. “You guys have enough going on; you shouldn’t worry about me—”

“Gob, come on,” Lindsay said.

“I have a lot going on, but that’s not going to stop me from being in your life, you know,” Michael said pointedly.

Lindsay gave him a wry smile. “Nothing will stop you from being all involved in _all_ of our lives.” She looked at Gob and teased the old family joke, “Michael never leaves, right?”

Gob looked between the two of them, realizing they’d keep bugging him until he admitted it. He just sighed and sat up straighter, putting the teddy bear on the ground. He rolled up his right sleeve and showed off his wrapped-up arm. “I burnt myself pretty badly. It kinda hurts on and off, but bumping against stuff makes it hurt more. I have a check-up on it today, so hopefully I can get some better pain medication or something, but, yeah, I was afraid I’d hurt myself.” After a beat, he added, “Or her.”

“When did that happen?” Michael asked, confused.

Gob shrugged his shoulder. “A bit over a week ago? I was drunk and trying to light something, and I guess some alcohol got on my arm—I don’t know. I don’t remember much. Tony got me to the hospital, and they bandaged me up.” He pulled down his sleeve and whispered, “…I really thought he was gonna break up with me.”

Lindsay wasn’t quite sure what to say, but she ended up going with, “I’m glad he didn’t.”

“Me, too,” Gob said, smiling. “We actually had a nice talk afterwards. You know, about us.” He smiled to himself and shook his head slightly. “He really _does_ get me. Not just liking the same sort of things or anything. He really saw through a lot of what I had going on.”

Lindsay tilted her head. “What’s been going on?"

“It's…it's hard to explain. Just…me going to an extreme, like usual." Before Lindsay could ask, Gob said, "You had bigger things to worry about, so I didn't want to text you.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Michael asked.

“I tried,” Gob said. “You were busy. Between Anna and the baby stuff, you really didn’t have time to listen to me." He looked at Michael and pointedly said, “Plus, I think yesterday proved that you may not have listened to what I had to say about Tony.” Both Gob and Lindsay looked at him with raised eyebrows. Why weren’t they the ones raised as twins instead?

Michael sighed and looked down at his feet. “Yeah, I…I’m really sorry. I know I was starting to sound like dad, but-but I didn’t mean it like him. I wasn’t saying it to knock you down, I just was worried and…” Michael looked up at his brother. “He’s…he really makes you happy?”

“Yeah,” Gob said simply, honestly. “Our good moments are…” he burst into a wide smile, “I’ve never been able to talk to anyone like that. Even with Seth or, like, Jimmy or anyone. With Seth it felt like we were best friends who had good sex— _really_ good sex, like, I never thought it could get better than that and, really, that was a lot of our relationship. But Tony…it feels different. Different in a good way. Really just… _connected_.” After a moment, he clarified, “The sex is also really good, too. Like, _god_ , does Tony know how to give it and give it _good_.”

For once, Michael didn’t groan or roll his eyes at Gob’s over-indulgence about his sex life. He was too focused on Gob’s smile. Michael could recognize that smile; it was a smile he had felt on his own face with Tracey and Anna, at the birth of his children. A happiness that couldn’t be faked. A happiness that was contagious, even with Michael’s own mixed feelings.

But, well, maybe Michael had to let go of those feelings. If only for Gob’s sake, if only so his brother could keep that smile that Michael hadn’t seen from him in a while, maybe even ever.

“…Okay,” Michael said. He smiled at Gob and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m happy for you. And I really mean it.”

“Thanks, Mikey,” Gob said.

Lindsay rested her chin on Gob’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. “I’m happy for you, too.”

“Thanks, Linds.”

“But now can we work on getting me someone?” she asked. “I did all that work on finding myself, I deserve someone, too. I can’t be the only single one of the Bluth children.”

“There’s still Buster…Sorta,” Gob pointed out as the elevator door opened. Tony and Maeby came out along with an excited Buster and calm Lucille, her eyes soon landing on the three of them.

“There’s Buster’s other half right now,” Michael murmured dryly before standing up and greeting their mother.

* * *

Tony went back to Anna’s room while Gob had his doctor’s appointment and Michael went in search of coffee. “He really needs to sleep at some point,” Anna sighed. “Hopefully I can convince him to do that when my mom gets back. He needs it.”

“Yeah. We don’t need him to snap any more than he has,” Tony said. Anna frowned and he shook his head. “Sorry. I know you don’t want to hear that about him right now.”

“Well, he’s being an idiot about you, so I get it,” Anna said.

They didn’t say much else until Gob got back. “Hey,” Tony said, getting up to greet him. “How’d the appointment go?”

“Good, good,” Gob said. “She says it’s healing nicely.” At Anna’s look, he explained, “I just burnt myself. No big deal.”

“Oh,” she said, looking a little concerned.

Gob sat down in the chair Tony had just occupied and settled in. “Yeah, it just hurts if I touch it.”

“So, no playing recently?” Anna said with a frown.

“I’ve done some, but it’s not my best.”

“How long are you out of commission?”

“I think he’ll be back to normal by the time you’re ready to get your commission again,” Tony replied.

Anna rolled her eyes at him. “I’m worried about more than just that, _thank you_.” She smiled slightly and said, “I’m a mom now, anyways. I get to worry and nag both of you.”

“You already did that without the baby. Especially the nagging part,” Gob pointed out.

Anna just grinned in response. “Maybe, but the baby thing makes for a nice excuse.” She looked back down at the sleeping baby in her arms and then back at Gob. “You’re really okay?”

“I am. I even have a prescription for some cream that should help with the pain,” he said, waving a slip of paper in his hand. “How are _you_ doing?”

“Physically? I’m exhausted,” she admitted with a slight laugh. “And sore. And not digging a lot of the stuff that happens post pregnancy already. Oh, and breastfeeding? Not as easy as you think.”

Gob wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

“It honestly is. I’m not even going to go into details, so count yourself lucky,” Anna said.

“Thanks for that,” Gob said. He looked at his watch and said, “I should probably get this prescription in—"

“I can do that,” Tony said. “You stay here. Bond with your niece.” Part of Gob wanted to argue that it was fine, but a much larger part of him just wanted to keep sitting.

“Thanks, babe,” Gob said, handing him the slip. Tony kissed his cheek before slipping out.

Anna and Gob were silent for a while, Anna’s eyes back on her baby where she slept on her chest. Gob eventually looked at her as well. She really _was_ small. He forgot how small newborn children were.

“She’s cute,” Gob said finally, just wanting to break the silence.

Anna smiled widely. “She is, isn’t she?”

Gob moved his eyes back to Anna. “Are you scared?”

“Absolutely _terrified_ ,” Anna said with a small laugh.

“Really? You don’t seem like it.”

“Yeah…well, I am. But I’m also really excited,” Anna said. She gently placed her hand on Ellie’s chest and smiled widely. “But I’m getting her father snipped right away, yes I am,” she said in a cooing voice, making Gob laugh.

“Does Michael know about this plan?”

“I think after these nine months, he’d be more than willing to make sure I don’t end up doing this again.”

Gob snorted. “You weren’t _that_ bad. You just weren’t Anna at times.” It was still strange to think of how much she had actually  _cried._

“Yeah. I wasn’t a huge fan of that,” she said. “I’m still not really fully back; I started crying an hour ago out of nowhere.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Partly hormones, but also because this really _is_ scary _._ ” Anna sighed as she looked down at her baby, “…I love her so much. I just don’t want to screw this up.”

Gob slowly smiled. “Yeah. I get that.” After a pause, he added, “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be an amazing mom.”

Anna smiled softly at him, wiping under her eyes. “Thanks.” She looked back at Ellie and deadpanned, “Kinda wish I could have more of what was in that epidural, though.”

Gob couldn’t help but laugh for a moment. “You were really something else. You forgot I had been there the whole time.”

“Well, normally you’re loud and front and center. I was confused since you weren’t acting like yourself,” Anna said, as if that was perfectly logical.

“Yeah…” Gob shook his head. “I haven’t been myself. I know I haven’t been much fun.” At Anna’s curious look, he said, “I just felt kinda lonely, I guess. I don’t know. Things have been weird.”

“For you and me both,” Anna said frankly.

Gob studied her for a little bit. Finally, he asked, “How did you and Michael do it?” She looked confused and he said, “You know, like, make this whole thing work? Michael always overthinks everything, but he managed to stop with you.”

Anna thought it over. “…I think the only reason he didn’t over-think it was because we both went in with no expectations at first. I definitely thought it would just be a casual thing. But then things naturally flowed together and…” She smiled a little. “I don’t know. We’ve had our fights. He’s definitely tried to push me away before and, well, maybe we’d already be married if I hadn’t tried to control everything.” She laughed slightly. “Honestly, if I’ve learned _anything_ from the past few years, it’s that I can’t plan everything. From falling in love to a perfect timeline to having a baby.” She took a shaky breath. “It’s a little terrifying, but…I’m learning to go with the flow.”

“You’re turning into a real Californian.”

Anna laughed. “Maybe, yeah.” With a sigh, she continued, “It makes sense that you’d over-think it, though. You’ve been wanting this for so long.”

Gob nodded. “Yeah…I’ve just never had someone who wanted me through all the bad. Like the times I really lost it.” He admitted, “I’m _also_ absolutely terrified.”

“Well, you don’t look it, either,” Anna told him. Gob still looked doubtful. She sighed softly and said, “Another thing I’ve learned anything over these past nine months? If someone really loves you, they’ll stay with you through the worst mood swings and all the bad times and the lowest moments. Because the highest moments are worth it.” Gob looked back up at her and she softly insisted, “And Tony really, _really_ loves you.”

Gob slowly smiled. “He does, doesn’t he?” Anna nodded. “God, how fucking gay.” Anna couldn’t stop herself from laughing louder than she had earlier, but her eyes soon landed on Ellie as she hoped she hadn’t woken her.

“You should be sleeping, too, shouldn’t you?” Gob asked once Anna relaxed again.

“I _should,_  but I’m afraid I’ll roll over or something. So, I can wait.”

“But once you go home, you won’t get much sleep…” Anna nodded, but didn’t say anything. “…I can take her?”

Anna looked at him sharply. “Are you sure?” Gob nodded. “What about your arm?”

“I can handle it,” he said and, after a moment, Anna and Gob carefully worked together to get Ellie in his arms while keeping her asleep and keeping his wrist as untouched as possible.

“You know you aren’t allowed to leave now, right?” Anna asked.

“I won’t,” Gob said. “I’ll be here when you wake up. With Gobie Junior, here.” Anna shook her head with a smile before closing her eyes.

* * *

“Hey.”

Tony turned around, surprised to find Michael of all people holding a small carrier of coffee cups. “Hey,” Tony said back after a moment, giving him a small nod of his head before looking back towards the pharmacy window as he waited for Gob’s prescription to be filled.

Michael put the carrier down on a nearby chair and pulled one out. “…I remembered you saying something about Americanos?”

Tony looked at him suspiciously before taking it. “…Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Again, Tony looked back at the pharmacy window, but he felt Michael still looking at him, not moving. “So…what are you up to?” Michael asked.

“Waiting for Gob’s prescription."

“Oh. Uh, yeah, good.”

Still, Michael didn’t leave. Tony rolled his eyes and turned back around. “You know, I volunteered to get Gob’s prescription to help him and since I hoped to avoid you for a while.”

Michael nodded. “That’s fair.”

They were silent for a while, long enough that Tony almost went to another part of the room. He was about to do just that when Michael said, “I wanted to thank you. You know, trying to keep Anna calm and volunteering to help and everything.”

Tony looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah…and I wanted to…” he looked at his feet for a moment before saying, “I wanted to apologize for being a dick to you. For a while now. Especially since you and Gob started dating. And especially for everything I said yesterday…I’m guessing you heard all of it.”

For a moment, Tony’s face remained unreadable. Then he slowly nodded. “Thanks.” He admitted, “I mean, I get why you didn’t like me. If I thought someone was leading on my sibling or something, yeah, I’d hate them, too. And I definitely would take a while to trust them.”

“Right.”

“I just thought you’d realize I really _did_ love your brother sooner.” Tony let out an air of laughter. “I mean, everyone else seemed to realize that.”

Michael nodded. “…Right.”

Tony nodded back. “But…yeah. Thanks.”

After another silence, Michael said, “I just…I’m used to always looking out for him.” Tony nodded; he knew that.

“…And I’m not used to other people doing that job for me,” Michael said. Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “I know Seth kinda did that, I guess, but it wasn’t right in front of me, you know? He was so far from me and…I don’t know.” Michael shook his head. “Gob…he didn’t always do what I said, because he’ll do whatever he wants—actually, he often does exactly the opposite of what you tell him to do—but he’d at least _listen_ to me. But…but ever since everything with my dad, he…” Michael sighed heavily. “…Well, you heard what he said. He really doesn’t think he needs to listen to me anymore.”

Part of Tony just wanted to roll his eyes and walk away. _Most_ of Tony wanted to do that, honestly. After all, he owed Michael nothing after all the bullshit he pulled on him. But he knew that they needed to get along in order for him to keep dating Gob, and he knew that meant dealing with…well, whatever this was.

“Gob still listens to you,” Tony said. “I know he really values your input. A lot. He just likes having an excuse to say he’s not going to listen to you.”

“I guess,” Michael shrugged.

Tony sighed. “Look, man…I’m not here to replace you or anything. And I know you like having control over things, but Gob isn’t something you can control.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He ran his hands over his face and sighed. “I just want him to be happy. I really do. And…and he’s happy with you. Really happy. So…so I’m happy for him. And you.”

“Thanks.”

After a pause, Michael continued, “So…if you’re willing to give me another chance, maybe we can be friends? Or at least get along? At least for Gob’s sake?”

Again, part of Tony wanted to just roll his eyes and possibly flip him off. But, instead, he nodded and said, “Yeah. Sure.”

“Thanks,” Michael said.

Tony, thinking about what Anna said, asked, “So, uh, how are you doing? It’s been a crazy twenty-four hours.”

Michael snorted. “Try a crazy nine months. Or more like a crazy…twenty years?” He laughed under his breath and Tony laughed, too. “I don’t know, sometimes it felt like my life has been non-stop since George Michael was born. But these past few years have been something else…everything’s just been so out of control lately. Unplanned. Crazy. And I know it’s just going to get crazier with a baby around.”

“…Well, yeah,” Tony said with a shrug. He couldn’t deny that. Michael groaned softly and tilted his head back. Tony could see just how exhausted the man was and he sighed to himself.

Soon after that, they announced that Gob’s prescription was ready, and Tony picked it up. He walked back over to Michael and looked him over as the other man stood up. “…Look, you may not have control over Gob or your family or anything, but you know what you _can_ control?” Michael raised his eyebrows. “How much sleep you get before your baby comes home.” He chuckled and Tony continued, “Come on, Anna wants you to get some rest, too. So, drop off those coffees and get some sleep while you can.”

Michael hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right.” He sighed and followed Tony to the elevator, the two of them by themselves as they rode up to the maternity ward.

And, just because he felt like Michael deserved it, Tony added, “You know, it’s not like I really have any control over Gob, either.” Michael nodded. “…Unless you count when I tie him up and tease him ‘til he begs for it.”

Tony smirked as Michael closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. Finally, as the elevator doors opened on the right floor, Michael said, “I guess I deserved that.”  

“Oh, you most _definitely_ did.”

* * *

“I’ve got to say, I kinda miss your old place,” Michael said. “It’s weird to see you in a house that’s a normal color—well, on the outside, at least.”

“Yeah, I miss that, too,” Gob said. “But at least this place still has bay windows. And that second room means Tony can practice in privacy without cats bugging him. Or me.”

“Except Gob can open the door and bug me whenever he wants. As he wants to do that a lot, apparently,” Tony teased.

Gob grinned. “I like watching you play, so sue me. Besides, that’s also where I have to go to get the guitar. Or ukulele.”

“I know; I’m just teasing,” Tony said.

Soon after that, Lindsay came in with a few shopping bags in her arms, Anna soon following with her daughter in a stroller.

“Nice place,” Anna said before pulling Ellie into her arms.

“Nice shoes,” Tony said. “It’s good to see you back in heels.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Anna said. “I was honestly going crazy not having any shoes for work in my new size, but Lindsay helped me find several.” She looked down at Ellie and cooed, “And some comfy shoes for Miss Ellie’s little feet, too.”

“Why? She can’t even walk,” Gob said. Anna just rolled her eyes before Tony gave them a short tour of their new place.

“It’s really a great place,” Lindsay said. “Beach-y and fun, but with more space than your old one. And a less obnoxious color.”

“Yeah. We like it,” Gob said, smiling over at Tony.

“And the cats do, too, but they’re still getting used to it. Once they’re over the shock, we’ll look into getting that fourth cat,” Tony said with a nod. “First a Mr. Mistoffelees."

"Then a Freddie Purrcury."

"Then another character from  _Cats._ "

Gob smirked and, unable to stop himself, he quoted  _The Magic Flute_ Papageno/Papagena duet, "Then a little Papageno."

Tony grinned and continued on, "Then a little Papagen _a_."

 

“Ow!” Anna cried suddenly. “Ellie, _no!_ Honey, no—we don’t pull mama’s hair,” Anna said with that exaggerated inflection she saved for talking to her daughter.

“Yeah, only daddy gets to do that,” Gob said as Anna gently pulled her hair out of her four-month old’s reach.

Tony laughed. “I think if anyone does the hair pulling, it’s mama.”

Lindsay corrected them both, “I doubt either of them has been doing _any_ hair pulling for months.” Both Anna and Michael gave the three of them glares, which just made them laugh more.

“Ow!” Anna cried out as Ellie managed to pull her hair again. “Michael, can you take her?” Michael took his daughter into his arms and Anna pulled out a hair tie, quickly getting her hair back into a bun so her daughter wouldn’t pull on it. It was kind of weird how much she looked like normal Anna again, with only little Ellie around to remind them of what had happened over the past year.

“Do you ever think about how this time last year, you were puking for all of us to hear?” Gob asked Anna.

Anna narrowed her eyes. “Do you really want me to drop you as a client right before I come back to work?”

“Hey, I’m just observing the passage of time,” Gob said. Anna rolled her eyes and he added, “You look almost the same, though. Like, pre-pregnancy.”

“…I hate how happy that made me. But thank you,” she said proudly.

Once Maeby, George Michael, Buster, and Steve got there, Tony and Gob went to the kitchen to fill up a pitcher of water, both of them feeling very mature and adult-y for having one in the first place. When Gob reached for some glasses, his long sleeve fell down his arm, showcasing the burn scar on his wrist. He tugged on his sleeve self-consciously; he didn’t like thinking about how dark that time had been, but, more importantly, he thought it was really ugly.

But Tony, like he often did when he saw Gob look like that, gently took his arm and placed a gentle kiss over the scar on the underside of Gob’s wrist. It always made Gob smile and feel a bit better about the dark mark on his skin. He wasn’t sure if it would ever really go away, even though it had faded a lot over the months since it happened.

“You know, I really like having more space,” Gob said as they gathered glasses, not wanting to dwell over the sight of his scar. “I like being able to have more people over without getting as crowded.”

“Yeah. I like being able to have your family over. And maybe we’ll be able to host the Bluth Christmas Party this year,” Tony suggested. “Hey, maybe even Pip will be able to join us; she’s talking about moving out west.”

“Really?” Gob asked. He laughed slightly. “She’s a therapist, right? We probably need one in the family.”

Tony laughed. “I think she’d come up with several case studies from a regular Bluth Family Party; the Christmas one could probably get her funding from every major research university in the world.”

“Probably. I know my therapist would love to see one of our parties in action,” Gob said with a wise nod of his head. He had only just started working with one and the guy was great, but he was pretty sure a few of his family stories had actually freaked him out more than he let on.

Thankfully, the rest of the night went much better than most any Bluth Family Party could ever go. There were no awkward family secrets revealed (Gob couldn’t imagine there were anymore left after George Michael’s going away party the previous year), overly drunk family members (though Anna might have been a bit flushed after only half a glass of wine, since her tolerance seemed to completely disappear during her pregnancy), or screaming (well, except for a few cries from Ellie that were to be expected).

At one point, Gob took his youngest niece from Anna and smiled at her. “Hey, Gobie Junior,” he greeted as she smiled up at him. Now that she was older he thought she really _was_ cute, unlike the wrinkled little thing she was in the hospital.

“You’re going to confuse her if you keep calling her that,” Anna said. “The books say she should be recognizing her name soon.”

“Hey, I get and got called two names; she’ll be able to handle it,” Gob replied, neglecting to mention that he also didn’t realize his real name was “George” until he was about five years old. “It’s your fault for naming her after me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael and Anna muttered.

Still, Michael couldn’t help but smile as he watched his brother interact with his daughter. “You really don’t want one of your own?” Michael asked.

“A kid?” Gob asked. “I already have Steve, duh.” Steve pumped his fists for evidence and Gob smiled. “I don’t need another one, especially not a baby. They’re fun to play with, but I like being able to give them back to you when you have to do the not so fun stuff.”

Tony nodded in agreement. “Same. I love my nieces and nephews, but I’d never want to raise a kid myself.”

“Cats are better,” Gob said. Tony nodded in agreement again.

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Lindsay asked Tony.

“God, I don’t even know at this point,” Tony muttered. “Four of my siblings are married, all of them have at least one kid…Lizzie has, like, a million…” Tony rolled his eyes up and used his fingers as he tried to remember all of them. “We’re at nine right now, but Lizzie’s pregnant _again_ , so…”

 _“Jesus,”_ Lindsay swore. “So, your parents have _nine_ grandkids?”

“Yeah. And it _still_ doesn’t stop my ma from asking if I plan on giving her more,” Tony said with a massive eye roll. “She’s been scaring away possible girlfriends with that question since high school.”

Maeby asked, “Does she still ask that now that you have a boyfriend?”

“She hasn’t asked directly, but she loves telling me about how the gay couple on that one TV show adopted a kid.”

“That one with Julie Bowen?” Michael asked.

“I think so.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Michael has a bit of a thing for her.”

“Michael? Liking a controlling blonde? _Impossible,”_ Tony said with a smirk. After a shared laugh at Michael’s expense, Tony said, “I get it, though. She’s hot.” Gob shot him a glare and he said, “What? I didn’t say she was hotter than you, did I?” Gob raised an eyebrow and Tony raised one back. “It’s not like she’s on my list or anything.”

“Like the celebrities list?” Anna asked. Tony nodded.

“I guess you get a pretty big list to choose from when you’re bi,” Michael said.

Tony tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“…Like you have more to choose from,” Michael said.

“Why? Because bi people are sluts?” Tony said.

Michael’s eyes widened. “What? No! I was just saying—there’s more when you have guys _and_ girls instead of just one—”

“Do you think bi people just want to fuck everyone we meet? Like we can’t control ourselves?” Tony asked. He shook his head, “Wow, there’s no reason to be biphobic, _Michael.”_

Michael opened and closed his mouth several times to try to answer before just bringing a hand to his eyes as he groaned.

Tony turned to Gob with a grin as everyone else laughed at Michael’s expense. “You were right; that _is_ fun.”

Seeing his boyfriend so perfectly torture Michael, one of the true ways to be a Bluth, made Gob grin so widely it hurt. “God, I love you.”

Tony winked at him and simply replied, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. Wow. Lots to say after already saying way too much in one chapter.
> 
> 1\. Sorry this took so much longer than expected! I had so many problems with writing chapter 10 of the first fic and then wanted to parallel it so like....of course this happened lmfao. I changed this plot so many times? Like the main beats were pretty much consistent - Gob's insecurities, Lindsay leaving for a while, Anna's pregnancy, Michael having to let go - but my original idea made it feel, idk, too neat of an ending? Which probably seems weird since this ended so nicely, too. Whatever! I just had to put this out here even though it's not _everything_ I hoped it be.
> 
> 2\. I really tried shortening this since I don't think it's well-paced but like. I couldn't figure out what I wanted to cut, since even the most pointless seeming scenes had something necessary in it. I couldn't. I did manage to cut two scenes that had people finding out about Gob and Tony dating, but didn't necessarily do much narratively. And I don't want to promise anything, since obviously I have no control over my word count anymore, but I really do think the next chapters are NOT gonna be this long so this is just going to look ridiculous lol. But you guys like long chapters, so enjoy? lol
> 
> 3\. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE FIRST PART OF THE VERDI [DIES IRAE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AQIGymhSyA) HOLY SHIT. I've been trying to fit this into the fic for, like, EVER. My experience with the Verdi _Requiem_ is literally what I wrote for Gob, like the guys were JUMPING hitting the timpani in that section, it was so fucking cool. It goes OFF. The whole "Dies irae" section, and the _Requiem_ in its entirety, are truly worth a listen, but just the two-ish minutes of the first sequence of the "Dies irae" is worth multiple listens.
> 
> 4\. Also, did you catch my super sneaky Zoolander reference? If not, you might wanna check out this [commercial/special feature from the DVD](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f82OT5xtIak) I watched way too much as a kid that has made Ben Stiller associated with T. S. Eliot ever since. And, yes, I know way too much about the _Cats_ musical and Tony and Gob are totally Mr. Mistoffelees and Rum Tum Tugger respectively.
> 
> 5\. Obviously I'm keeping some elements of s4, since I _did_ write out the basic outline of this fic after s4 had been out for a while, so it's like a part of my system. I'm going to keep certain parts of s5 in there, or at least some possible details, but I'll admit there's not as much since this verse totally veers off from canon, obviously, since they're all healthier in this verse. Because this family is so wrapped up in each other that one person being healthier makes them all healthier and happier. Except for George Sr. Fuck George Sr.
> 
> 6\. I kinda hope you guys clicked some of the links in there, at least the Pachelbel part and the "Christmas Time is Here" ;) 
> 
> 7\. As always, the spotify version of the playlist can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/12q2Ri5nb9HHpgrlehsAdk?si=dClauafQQkuFKc_WNpf48w). I haven't been updating the 8tracks one, but if anyone wants me to, let me know and I'll totally do that! There are SO many mood songs this chapter.
> 
> 8\. Yeah, the show says Michael's birthday is December and he's a Sagittarius, but they also say he was born in 1967 which makes NO SENSE with the timeline. I know AD has like no realistic timeline but it bugs me and Michael's totally a Capricorn born in January in my book, okay? 
> 
> 9\. Yeah, I really hope you guys liked this! Can you believe we're approaching the one year anniversary of me starting this verse that I love so, so much? Gosh. I love you all for reading this, especially as it's gotten so long and just. Wow. Thank you so, so much for everything and I really hope you liked this and yeah, let me know!! I really appreciate and love you all thank you again <3


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